Knight in Shining Armor
by Dr. Strange
Summary: COMPLETE. High school. Gordo returns from summer vacation to discover that things are not what they appear to be.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes:

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission.

I'm rating this R, for later chapters. You won't find anthing hardcore (I don't even know if that's allowed here), but we will be delving into some seriously adult sexual situations, so fair warning. If you're looking for a story that leers overs Lizzie's nipples and other forbidden body parts, you might be well served to check out some other R-rated Lizzie lit (oh, and let me know where you find it). If you're in search of a Lizzie story where teenagers are faced with some very adult situations (no matter how improbable they may seem), then you might want to keep reading. Again, fair warning: The sexual situations here will become very intense, and may not be your cup of tea.

Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 1

They say that life is a bowl of cherries, and they say it like that's a good thing.

To me, life has always been like a Hoover upright, 'cause it sucks.

My name is David Gordon. I had lived through three years of Hell--I mean junior high--and one year of Purgatory (slightly less Hellish), and the only thing--and I mean the _only_ thing--that kept me sane was my two best friends, Miranda and Lizzie.

Don't get me wrong. I mean, I like school, always have. But I'm a freak. And when you're a freak, school can be Hell.

Here's what made me a freak:

1. I like school. I mentioned that, right?

2. I have no athletic ability. All the way back to third grade, I was the last one picked, even after the girls and the guy with the asthma inhaler. You need to know how the Fibonacci Spiral relates to the shapes of sea shells? I'm your man. You need a second baseman who can hit it over the fence? That's the alternate universe David Gordon. You know...the one I daydream about.

3. Here's the clincher, and you've probably figured it out by now: my two best friends in all the world, whom I would give my life for, and whom I couldn't live without, were girls. This was the Kiss of Death in junior high, and hadn't weakened at all through my sophomore year.

"Hey, Gordo, painting your toenails with the gals tonight?"

"Hey, Gordo, doesn't that new Freddie Prinze movie send your heart all aflutter?"

"Hey, Gordo, I hear tryouts are next week for rhythmic gymnastics. Don't worry, you're a shoo-in!"

So when word came in April of my sophomore year that I'd been accepted as a summer intern at Jet Propulsion Laboratories, I jumped for joy. Literally, I jumped. Three months (_well, eleven weeks_) away from all the crap that I had to put up with around here. You just don't know what...well, never mind.

This isn't turning out like I intended. This is supposed to be a story about Lizzie, and I'm making it into a story about me.

The next afternoon, I was giving the girls a ride home from the Digital Bean (I had gotten my license in February; Lizzie was due before school got out, and 'Randa, the baby of the three, would have to wait until August). We pulled into Lizzie's driveway, and it was on the walk to the porch that I made my announcement. When I told them about the internship, Miranda squealed and hugged me, telling me she was so proud of me, that I had to write her every day, call her every night, and bring her lots of souvenirs. Lizzie was...more reserved. I think she was a little hurt.

You see, with the exception of trips with our families, the three of us had spent every day (and half the nights) of every summer together, watching videos, riding bikes, going on picnics, laying on the roof and counting stars. And now, I was bringing these traditions to an end.

Oh, she smiled when she heard the news, but there was more than a little fear in her voice when she said, "What will I do, without my knight in shining armor?"

The thing about Lizzie, the thing you have to understand, is that a lot of times, her first reaction to news can be...well, a little self-centered, like, "What about me?" "How will this affect me?" "Doesn't anybody care what I think?"

But give her a chance. She always comes around. She always does the right thing. And that, more than her smile, more than her eyes, more than the glitter in her hair, is why I've always loved her.

No, I know what you're thinking. Not like that. I don't mean it like that. I just mean that I love the kind of person she is. I just mean that I love that, in the end, she can put other people's needs in front of her own. I just mean that I love her, and if she had asked me to stay, I would have.

And maybe things would have turned out a little differently.

"It's not that long," I assured her. "Barely a couple of months, really. And the night I get back, mucho grande movie popcorn pigout at Casa Gordo."

Her smile grew a little more open and honest, at that. "With chocolates?" her eyebrows rose hopefully.

"The chocolatest kind. And besides, it's not like it's tomorrow. We've got six more weeks before I leave. Until then, it's Avengers Assemble."

Miranda bobbed her head and repeated, "Avengers Assemble!"

We both turned to Lizzie expectantly. Smirking and shaking her head, she finally looked at us out of the corner of her eye and gave us an almost embarrassed, "Avengers Assemble."

Well, my letters to Miranda were more like every _other_ day, and my calls were much less frequent than that. But I _did_ bring back a lot of souvenirs, so give me props for that.

My contacts with Lizzie that summer were a little more...erratic. I wrote her the day I arrived, and then again, a week later. When another week passed, with no response, I called. The first two calls, I wasn't able to get past Matt, her little brother. He said I had to keep the line clear, so his agent could reach him. I didn't know what that meant; I didn't care. There's always something going on with him.

I finally reached her mom around dinnertime, and Mrs. McGuire told me that Lizzie wasn't there, that she was "out with a couple of friends."

I didn't like the sound of that. Lizzie only had one friend, when I wasn't there. But I kept my cool, and just asked her mom to ask Lizzie to call me.

Some of the other interns wanted to shoot pool down in the rec room, but I stayed in my dorm room that night. She did finally call, but it was after midnight.

"Hey, Gordo," she said when I answered the phone, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Lizzie! How have you been?!" Just those two words--_hey, Gordo_--quickly became the highlight of my week among the greatest scientific minds of our time.

"Okay, I guess," she responded.

"Why are you whispering?" I asked.

"I just don't want to wake my 'rents. Plus, I think I'm coming down with something," she added, with a sniffle to prove her point.

We talked for about ten minutes, about movies and Miranda and jet propulsion (okay, that last part was mostly me talking), before Lizzie reminded me that it was a long distance call that was coming out of her allowance.

"It's good to hear your voice, Gordo," was the last thing she said to me before hanging up, and that immediately replaced the "Hey, Gordo" at the top of my highlights list.

I realized two things after our phone conversation. The first was that I had been somehow anxious about not hearing from her, and all of my anxieties were relieved after just ten minutes. She was Lizzie, and I was Important. The second was that I had neglected to ask her about her "couple of friends." But that was okay. I guess Lizzie wasn't the only one who could be self-centered.

That was the only time we talked that summer, but I did get several letters and cards from her, and they were all the very most typical Lizzie McGuire.

The whiz kids at JPL read some of the stuff. I expected to get ribbed, just like at school, but it was nothing like that. They liked Lizzie, said she was cool. Three of the guys even told me privately that they wished they had had a friend like her in high school. By the end of the summer, half the staff thought of Lizzie as their little sister, but she never knew. "Don't let me hear you broke her heart, kid," they warned me, and I'm not at all sure that they were kidding.

As my stay in Pasadena drew to an end, the director of the internship program asked if I could stay an extra week to help close out a study of data from Galileo. I figured that meant delivering doughnuts, but how could I refuse? The only thing was, that meant I wouldn't be getting back home until the day before the new school year started, so any reunion plans that the three of us might have made would have to be put on hold.

When I called Miranda to forewarn her, you could tell she was disappointed. "So we won't see you until school?" she moaned.

"Afraid not," I confirmed. "I'll be getting in about seven, I guess, but then there's all the unpacking." When she didn't answer, I continued. "I'll call you, but it'll be late, and--"

"No. It's just that...I was hoping you could..."

"What?"

"I dunno," she sighed. "I was hoping all of us could, get together, y'know, before the school year started. Um, Gordo, I think, you should..."

"What is it, Miranda? You're not making sense."

"I just...Look, you should know. Lizzie is...Lizzie is a little...different."

Next: Lizzie is a little different (but I promise you, it's not what you think).


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

To keeponwritin: Thanks for the heads up on Miranda's nickname. I considered claiming that they're older and Miranda has mellowed a little on the issue, but I don't really believe that. Consequently, I've edited that in Chapter 1. Actually, Gordo uses it twice, but only once to Miranda herself, so I've left the first example intact. I've also corrected a minor grammatical error, but those are the only changes, so there's no need to go back and reread. 

To KT the Shimmer Skank: Thanks for the kind words, and the willingness to withhold judgement on any LG relationship. To the extent that "LG" is shorthand for "Lizzie loves Gordo," let me put your mind at ease: There's no romance in this story, LG or otherwise. That's not to say there won't be romantic interludes between the two, because I think their friendship has a heavily romantic subtext, but any "romantic attraction" that the reader finds here is something that they're reading into the story; it's not there. I can't promise that there'll be _no_ cliches, because I haven't come close to reading all the Lizzie fanfics here, so I don't know what qualifies as a cliche. Likewise, I can't promise that I'll deliver on something that's never been done before, but I _am_ pretty confident that what I have in mind for Lizzie and Gordo and Miranda--and their relationships--hasn't been done often enough to become a cliche. This chapter will bring up what you may _think_ is a cliche, but as we alert you in the story summary, everything is not as it appears to be. Wouldn't be much of a mystery, otherwise, now would it? 

* * 

Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 2 

They say that life is like a box of chocolates. I guess what they're trying to say is that life is full of surprises. 

Well, pardon me, but I don't like surprises. There's no such thing as a "nice surprise." That's an oxymoron. 

So when Miranda warned me that Lizzie was different, I took it she was trying to save me from an evil surprise. 

"Different?" I repeated. Why does she warn me about _that_? I mean, all sorts of crazy thoughts rush through my head. _Tattooed? Bald? Pregnant??_ "Different, how? Third-arm-growing-from-her-back, different? What does that mean?" 

"Noooo," Miranda groaned. "She's been acting real...unlizzielike, like Pod Person Lizzie." 

"Can you give me more to go on, here?" I prodded. 

"Well, she...she _never_ laughs, anymore. And she hardly even smiles, much. And I can't even remember the last time she tried to get Kevin to notice her." 

I wasn't going to lose any sleep over that last one. Kevin Cartman had been Lizzie's latest crush, number five in a line of crushes going back to the seventh grade. Both Lizzie and Miranda had long ago gotten over Ethan Craft, ever since the "Adventure of the Smiling Dachshund," as we called it. But that's another story, one better told by Miranda. Actually, Ethan turned out to be one of the good guys, once you got to know him. Not very deep, if you know what I mean, but he's okay. I guess it just took getting out from Kate's claws. Once Kate started... 

Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Something about what Miranda had just told me struck a chord inside, one of those eerie deja vu feelings that squirmed out of your grasp just before you could close your fist around it. I pushed it away. 

"Maybe she misses me," I suggested. 

"Ma-a-aybe," Miranda replied reluctantly. I shrugged. I didn't really expect a ringing confirmation. "She's also been...sort of spending some time...with Kate." 

I chuckled. "You know, we've talked about this. I've told you that that cheap ass cordless phone you use garbles words, and made it sound like you said Lizzie's--" 

"Spending time with Kate," Miranda interrupted me, and it was the first time in our conversation that she had spoken firmly, with no hesitation. 

"Oh." 

This was bad. I mean, Lizzie and Kate didn't mix. They were like matter and anti-matter. If Matter Lizzie touches Anti-Matter Kate, worlds collide, universes explode. Lizzie and Kate Sanders had hung out together in grade school. Then we got to junior high. Kate had become a cheerleader and decided that, in order to climb the social ladder, she had to leave Lizzie behind. Everyone says that Kate changed a lot when we started junior high, but sometimes I think Lizzie changed just as much. 

I should explain that. It's kind of tough, so bear with me. In grade school, Lizzie was just as popular as Kate. They both moved in the same circles. Nowadays, she'll tell you that she wasn't that popular back then, but she misremembers. But they were popular in a good way, because they were friendly to everyone. Kate changed; that was easy to see. As always, with Lizzie, you had to look a little deeper. When Kate dropped Lizzie, I think it affected her more than she liked to admit. I think Lizzie decided (although I don't think she ever realized it herself) that being friends with everyone led you to _think_ that you had more friends than you really did. So she concentrated on being friends with the people that she _knew_ she could trust, and that was pretty much Miranda and me. At least, that's my theory. So at the same time that Kate was climbing that social ladder, Lizzie was stepping a couple of rungs in the other direction. 

Damn. I knew I wouldn't be able to explain it. Well, I gave it a shot. 

So anyway, when we were in junior high, Kate became the all-everything queen. She was what they used to call in my mother's time--no, scratch that; in my _grandmother's_ time--an "early bloomer," so Kate got all the attention of all the so-called cute guys. Then came high school and, you guessed it: she changed again. High school boys were "so blase," according to Kate, so she skipped them altogether. By Thanksgiving of our sophomore year, she was dating college guys exclusively (snubbing Ethan Craft like he was a slug), and by Valentine's Day, if you weren't a frat boy, you were wasting her time, just "sucking up oxygen." 

Kate moved in a fast crowd. 

And now, Miranda was telling me that Lizzie had changed, was hanging around Kate. 

"Miranda?" I asked. "Is Lizzie.... Are you okay?" 

"Sure!" Miranda replied, brighter than she had a right to be. "I...I was, um...it's cool that she's.... Look, Gordo, it's not the Kate stuff, it's that whatever she's doing, she's not happy. She goes to bed early, she sleeps late, she hardly says anything on the phone. Twice this month, when I went over to her house, she had been crying, and she wouldn't tell me why, and that hurt my feelings some, I guess, but then I thought, well maybe it's none of my business, maybe this is between her and Kate, but _me_? I'm okay." 

_No, you're not_, I thought. Miranda's best friend number two leaves town for the summer, and best friend number one hooks up with the Evil Bitch Princess From Hell, and she's worried about Lizzie. That is so Miranda. 

"Sounds like Lizzie needs an intervention," I said. 

Miranda chuckled. "I miss you, Gordo. I miss our conference calls." 

"We'll be conferencing every night," I assured her. "You're gonna need your own phone number." 

"Well, just be prepared, Gordo. You can't talk to Lizzie on the phone, without it sounding like she's struggling not to cry." 

And that weird deja vu returned so violently, it felt like I'd been slammed on the forehead. 

_"Plus, I think I'm coming down with something," she added, with a sniffle to prove her point._

Lizzie hadn't been sick. She had been crying. _My God_, I thought. _Had this been going on since early June? And I missed it? All the cards, the letters that were very most typical Lizzie McGuire?_ And I had always been so proud of myself, as a student of human nature. I had been a fool. Of course, I look back on it now and realize that Miranda had the benefit of actual _contact_ with Lizzie, whereas there had been no other phone calls between Lizzie and me. In retrospect, I suspect that was intentional on her part. But I didn't have retrospect, back then. I only knew that, as her friend, I should have known something was wrong, and I had failed. Failed myself, and Lizzie, and Miranda. 

"Gordo?" Miranda's voice brought me back from my fog. 

"Miranda, when I get back, we'll find out the deal. I promise." 

* * 

I got home a week later, on Thursday evening. And after dinner, I didn't go to Miranda's. I didn't go to Lizzie's. I didn't call either one of them. I didn't unpack, even though tomorrow was the first day of school. I was in my parents' study from seven-thirty that night until two-thirty Friday morning, reading everything in their psychology texts that I could find on the subject of depression. 

I was determined to be ready for tomorrow. Captain Gordo to the rescue! 

I thought I understood, you see. When you're a teen, you think you know all the answers. The truth is, you don't even know the questions. 

You'll see what I mean. 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 3**

They say life is a magazine, and a board game, and a box of cereal, and that's all it is. I had always thought life had more going for it than that, but lately, I had begun to wonder. 

What does a Miranda Sanchez look like, after a three-month absence? 

It was a razor-sharp bright morning at North Hillridge High School, the first day of our junior year. I was trying to locate my new locker when Miranda spotted me. She was just coming from the Arts/Music wing. 

"Gordo!" she squealed, and gave me a big hug, and I responded in kind. She pulled back to look at me uncertainly, as if she had accosted a stranger by accident. "You haven't shaved," she noticed. 

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Was up kind of late, last night. Listen, I'm sorry I didn't--" 

"Looks good," she said quietly, looked into my eyes, and stepped out from my arms. 

I thought to myself, "_Wow. I don't think I should go on any more three-month sabbaticals, cause that could very easily lead to my falling in love with this young woman, on my return._" 

I could talk about her looks, her hair, the curve of her face, the shape of her body. Who cares? It's the sound of her voice, the gleam in her eyes, the heat of her breath, the beat of her heart. 

That's what a Miranda Sanchez looks like, after a three-month absence. 

And that's when two hands covered my eyes from behind me. "d'jamissme?" came an unmistakable voice. I peeled the hands from my face and turned, to find Lizzie, smiling mischievously. Wouldn't you know it? She had grown another half an inch over the summer. I was doomed never to catch up with her. "Hey, McGuire," I growled. 

We hugged tightly, so tightly I lifted her briefly off her feet, and she gasped, "Gordo!" I released her, and took a deep breath. She turned to the side, and lifted her chin in the air. 

"Not talking to me?" I asked playfully. 

Her lower lip pooched out in a flirty pout. "I stayed up until midnight, last night, and you never called." 

Hmmmm, I thought. This didn't sound like the Lizzie I had been expecting. In fact, it sounded a lot like the Lizzie I had left, before Memorial Day. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Miranda watching Lizzie intently. 

"I had a lot of unpacking to do," I told her sheepishly. She tilted her head, as if debating whether to accept my excuse. "And tonight," I continued, "we have a lot of catching up to do." I glanced to Miranda, and then back to Lizzie. "What about that video-fest I promised you guys, back in April?" 

"Cool," Miranda replied. 

Lizzie flashed her brightest smile and said, "I'm on board." 

"Just stop by about five-thirty, I guess," I suggested. "I'll order the pizza, and when--" 

"D'oh!" Lizzie interrupted, slamming her palm against her forehead. "Ugh. Guys, I'm sorry. I forgot." 

_Ah. Here it comes._ This was where she would tell us she had already made plans with Kate, and Claire, and some of the guys at Eye Tappa Kegg, it being Friday night, and all. 

"My aunt is in town," Lizzie explained. "I-I'm so sorry. I promised my mom I'd eat dinner at home, and stick around tonight. I'm really sorry. I'd try to blow it off, but Jennifer hasn't been out here in four years, so...." 

My eyes met Miranda's. We were thinking the same thing. We were the ones being blown off; she just didn't want to tell us to our faces. "That's okay," I assured Lizzie. "Maybe later this weekend?" 

"Huh?" Lizzie asked. "Well, I just meant, why can't we do it at my house?" Again, my eyes locked with Miranda's briefly. "I mean, it would probably have to be after dinner--I think my mom's looking forward to all that family bonding stuff--but, like, you guys could come over about seven-thirty, then we'll break off to my room, and watch videos 'til the sun comes up!" 

I thought Miranda was about to sob with relief. "That sounds like the most fun I've had since junior high!" she said. 

I nodded. "I'll bring the chocolates." 

Lizzie broke out in the biggest smile I'd ever seen. "Avengers Assemble!" she laughed, hugging her notebook to her chest. And if we never see each other again after graduation, and if I live to be a senile old man, that'll be the image that I always remember her by. 

* * 

Our schedules prevented us from seeing each other, most of the day. I had AP History with Lizzie, AP Biology with Miranda, and AP English with both of them. All of my classes were advanced placement, and History and English were all that Lizzie felt comfortable with. Beyond that, Lizzie and Miranda were together for chorus and PE. 

And lunch. We all had lunch at the same time. We brought our own lunches, or we just bought something from the machines. No one trusted the cafeteria food. When we were in grade school, you could drop the lunchroom rolls on the floor, and they bounced back up to the table. In junior high, you dropped the rolls and they cracked. In high school, you dropped them, and the floor cracked. 

That day, we had staked out our traditional table, and I had opened my lunch. I was having a boiled egg sandwich, with a slice-- 

You don't really want to hear this, do you? 

Okay. So, anyway, Miranda asked, "So what are we watching tonight? I vote for Seabiscuit." 

"Mmmh," I held up one hand, putting down the juice I had been holding with the other. "Wait, now. I think I can score a pirate of Dawn of the Dead." Both of them gave me a dumbfounded look. 

Lizzie stared up at me, with her head tilted forward. "Gordo," she said, with the tone she usually reserved for Matt, "I'm not watching a zom--" 

"Hellllloooo, dear _sweet_ Lizzie." All of us looked up from our table to notice Kate Sanders standing in the aisle. Her voice was sugary, with none of the venom she usually held for us. For a brief moment, I had this weird sense of vertigo. It was sort of like hearing a snake purr like a kitten. 

Instantly, Lizzie's mood grew sombre. "Hi, Kate," she mumbled, her eyes downcast, picking an olive off her pizza. 

"Gordo!" Kate turned to me. "It's good to _see_ you, again! How was your summer? Did you have fun, playing with all those _toys_ at Cal State?" 

"Cal Tech, Kate," I corrected her. "J.P.L." 

"Did you shoot any exciting _videos_?" 

I shrugged. "Not really. They're kinda shaky on letting cameras roam around." 

"Well, I bet you were bored then, huh? Guess you should've stuck around." I had no clue what she was talking about. 

"Kate, do you mind?" Miranda asked. "We're trying to enjoy a meal, and, well, you're here, so...." 

Kate gave an almost honest laugh, and said, "Oh, Mi_ran_da, where did you get those shoes? I love them!" Miranda looked down at her feet self-consciously, as I'm sure Kate had intended. She was wearing what I think they called Soda Ankle Wraps. I thought she looked cute in them. "Our maid has a pair just like them!" Kate smirked. Okay. My world was settling back down again. Kate and Lizzie were the way I remembered them. 

"Kate," Lizzie sighed. "Just--" 

"Lizzie!" Kate interrupted again. "Coming over tonight?" 

"No," Lizzie replied quietly. She waved her fork in our direction. "We're getting together. Some other time, huh?" 

"Awww, Lizzie," Kate tutted. "Everybody's getting together at my house. We'll _miss_ you! You can do that old assembling thing"--she waved one hand airily as she said it--"any time. Come on," she pleaded. "Just this once. I know what! There's this boy I want you to meet. He's real cute! You'll _like_ him! I promise! What do you say?" 

"Kate," Lizzie tried again. "Just go. Please?" 

"Okay," Kate relented. "But promise me you'll think about it, sweetie. Call me, okay?" Kate had already turned to leave, so she didn't see Lizzie nod in reply. It was only then that I noticed how pale Lizzie had grown. 

* * 

I didn't bother driving over to Lizzie's that evening. I only lived a block and a half down from her house, and Miranda was two blocks over. At one time, Kate had been my next door neighbor, but her family had been "movin' on up." 

I rang the doorbell with a dub of Dawn of the Dead in one hand, and a small but potent box of Swiss chocolates in the other. The door was opened by Matt in a black jumpsuit. He squinted at me, as if he didn't recognize me. "What'sh the pashword?" he asked suspiciously. It was a fairly passable Sean Connery accent. 

*Sigh*. _Always something_. "Hey, Matt. Is Lizzie here?" 

"That'sh not the pashword." 

He was closing the door on me when I heard Lizzie's dad warn him, "Ma-a-a-tt?" 

Matt grimaced and reopened the door, stepping aside to let me in. Mr. McGuire called to me from the kitchen. "Gordo! Come on in!" I entered the kitchen, where Lizzie's dad was putting leftovers into the refrigerator. "Good to see you again, son." He shook my hand warmly. "How are the jets propulsing?" 

"Doing quite well, when I left." He returned to moving utensils from the counter top to the dishwasher. I guessed that Mrs. McGuire was in the den, catching up with her sister. "Um, is Lizzie in her room?" 

"Ah, no," he answered, standing up straight and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No, she left about half an hour ago. Gone to Kate's, I believe." 

I felt the floor drop out from under me momentarily. So casually, he said it. _Gone to Kate's, I believe._

"I don't understand," I said. "I thought...." I dropped both hands to my side. "Her aunt...." 

"Yeah, I know," Mr. McGuire replied sympathically. "She promised. After dinner, though, she asked if she could go over to Kate's. Her mom said no, and Lizzie _begged_. It was the most important thing in her life, she'd never ask for anything else, you know how it is, when you have a teenage girl." I gave him a blank stare. "Well, I guess you don't, but let me tell you, _everything_ is the most important thing in the world. Everything's melodramatic. But then she was crying, and that wasn't melodramatic. No bawling, or anything. Just tears." He leaned back against the kitchen island, drying his hands with a dishtowel, smiling wistfully. "You know, the day she was born, I promised myself I wouldn't let this beautiful little girl wrap me around her little finger." He grunted, and returned the towel to its rack. "Guess you see how well that turned out." 

I could hear the muted discussion coming from the den, the blare of a television from upstairs, the pinging of the oven as it cooled. "Mr. McGuire, have you noticed that Lizzie's...changed?" 

He seemed to consider my question for a moment, then shrugged. "Hanging out with Kate some, I guess." 

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "And you think that's a good thing?" 

Mr. McGuire studied me, then pointed to the kitchen table. "Come on, Gordo. Have a seat." I pulled out a chair, and he joined me. "How long have you and Lizzie been friends?" 

I shook my head, confused. "I don't remember ever not being friends." 

"Hmmm. Right. Gordo, I think that you and Miranda have always been the best friends that Lizzie could have ever had. I'd like to think that the three of you will _always_ be there for each other. That's important. But Lizzie's becoming a young woman, and there are other things that are important, too. 

"Now, what I'm about to say may hurt, but I hope you'll understand that I don't mean it to hurt you. I just want what's best for my little girl. Lizzie's mother and I have been...concerned...that Lizzie has been so...limited...in her personal relationships. While you and Miranda have been so good to her, and for her, sometimes it seems that you're her _only_ friends, and I--we--just don't think that's healthy. We'd like to see her develop friendships--certainly nothing as close as she has with you, but friendships--with other people. Because, while we'd like to think that you and Miranda will always be there for her, sometimes things don't always work out that way. Sometimes, people grow apart. 

"What's going to happen when you graduate, and you go to M.I.T., or Stanford, or Northwestern? Do you expect her to follow you? Will you still be spending every afternoon together then? Or will you be meeting new friends?" I thought, _Well, there's also USC film school_, but I didn't answer him. I didn't really think he was looking for one. "I don't know if Lizzie's thinking that far ahead, but I think she needs to broaden her horizons. 

"So, when you ask me if I think it's a good thing that she's spending some time with people who are outside of her small, close-knit circle of friends...yes, Gordo, I do." 

I nodded, to let him think I understood. That discussion opened my eyes a little bit. I realized two things from it. One was that parents were sometimes a little deeper than we gave them credit for. The other was that Miranda and I would be getting no help from the McGuires. 

"Look," he said, slapping his hand against the kitchen table. "So, Lizzie's not here. Why don't you stick around? Matt and I are squaring off on the computer. Dynamo Warrior! Join us. We'll make it a tournament?" 

"Thanks," I replied. "But I've got...stuff...." I pointed to the foyer, the front door. _Yeah. Stuff. I've got to...uh, watch this video, and eat this chocolate._

"Sure," he said, and we both stood. I turned to leave, but he called to me. "Hey, Gordo?" 

"Yeah?" 

He seemed to consider backing out, but finally forged ahead. "Lizzie would kill me for saying this. I mean, she would _kill_ me. But Lizzie's mother and I always thought...always hoped that you and she might...get together, as, well, you know." 

"Thanks, I guess," I told him. "But it's not like that, Mr. McGuire. We're just friends." 

"Of course," he nodded. 

I don't know if he believed me, but it was the truth. 

I excused myself and made my way through the front door, and out into the yard. Dusk was falling. Does dusk fall? Something felt like it was falling, that was for sure. At the end of the block, on the corner, under a streetlamp which had just clicked on in the August twilight, stood a beautiful young woman, unmoving. I walked down the block, joining her. 

"She's not there, is she?" Miranda asked me quietly. I shook my head in reply. "She's at Kate's." 

That one wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway. "Yeah." I looked back over my shoulder at Lizzie's house. It was a warm August evening, but a breeze whispered down the street, then blew between Miranda and I, and I shivered. 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

Chapter rated R for language. 

To Euir: "Maybe this Sam is like the show: clueless." Well, I hope that _all_ of the characters here are "like the show" (keeping in mind that they're all two or three years older). If so, I'm doing my job. As far as Jo knowing what kind of person Kate is, I believe the _worst_ thing Lizzie's parents think about Kate is that she's a snob, but I don't think that makes them clueless. Doesn't make them right, either. Concerning your theory: I go back and read the previous chapters, and I can see how you might have picked up on some of the clues to reach that conclusion, but no, no prostitution here, at least by any definition that I subscribe to. Didn't we just recently have an R-rated Lizzie posted here with a prostitution theme ("When Life Gives You Lemons"), at least judging by the story summary? I don't know, I haven't read it, but I wouldn't dream of posting a prostitution tale, so soon after another author. I don't think I'm going to confirm or deny any future theories, because eventually, someone will nail it, as the clues continue to get a little more straightforward. Sometime within the next three chapters, Gordo will start pulling the curtain back. 

Previous chapters have been replaced with their html versions. No other changes. 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 4**

They say life is a cabaret, but I guess "they" never lost a friend. 

We were huddled together on the couch in Miranda's basement, watching "Sea Biscuit" and commiserating. On arriving at her house, we had cruised through the kitchen, looking for sustenance, and I readily traded my Swiss chocolates to Miranda for an unopened can of cashews. I was in a cashew mood. 

So this movie was about a horse, I think, and it took place in the 1700's, or something. Okay, I know it was...later than that, I guess, but who cares? I mean, the point is, I wasn't watching it. I was watching Miranda. I was trying to pretend I was watching it, but I was sneaking peeks at Miranda. 

What Lizzie's dad had said had been gnawing at me. Were we growing apart? Was all this natural? Three weeks from now, would Miranda and I be sitting on separate couches, in separate houses, going our separate ways? And would Lizzie be miles away, by then? 

Lizzie had obviously made her decision. She had a chance to be with us, and she dumped us to join Kate's party. She didn't even bother to tell us; she just bailed. I tried not to be mad at her, but it was hard. I mean, we had a right to be angry. This was going to screw the group dynamic all to hell. If Lizzie wasn't going to hang, that meant it was just Miranda and me. _Which was fine, in the short term, but...well, it would just be too weird, just Miranda and me, every afternoon, every evening on the phone, spending the night at each other's houses, we might as well be screwing, cause everyone's going to think it any--_

"I want your penis, Gordo," Miranda told me, her eyes never leaving the screen. 

I choked on my coke. "What?" 

She turned from ogling Tobey to look at me. "I said I want your peanuts." She frowned and furrowed her brow. "Why? What did you think I said?" 

_I have got to get a girlfriend, before I ruin two perfectly good friendships._

"Cashews. They're cashews." 

She shrugged. "Whatever." I held the can out to her. She lifted a handful and dropped two or three into her mouth. She used the remote control to pause the DVD, and studied the freeze frame. "What are we going to do, Gordo?" 

I told her about my conversation with Mr. McGuire. 

"That's bullshit, Gordo," Miranda responded. "So they want her to have more friends. No big. But she was excited about tonight. You know that. So why stand us up?" 

"Miranda, she was excited, until Kate invited her over." 

"Right!" Miranda agreed, missing the point. "She wanted to get together with us, not Kate." 

I shook my head in confusion. "So, what are you saying? That Lizzie's dad was lying? That her parents _made_ her go to Kate's party?" 

"No," she hedged. "It's just that--" 

"Look," I interrupted, ticking the points off on my fingers. "All I know is that Lizzie could have spent the night with us, or she could have gone to Kate's party. That her parents were fine with the former, and set against the latter. That she begged her parents to let her go to the party. And, Miranda, she didn't even. Bother. To tell us." 

Miranda pointed at me and pressed the tip of her finger against my chest. "And all _I_ know is that's. Not. Lizzie." 

* * 

The next day was Saturday. I didn't hear from Lizzie and I didn't try calling her. I was making a sandwich for lunch on Sunday when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" I called to my parents, who were engaged in a game of backgammon in the den. I juggled the sandwich with a glass of milk as I opened the front door. Lizzie was on my porch. 

"Hey, Gordo," she said tentatively, giving me a tiny, unsure smile, as if she were afraid of my reaction. 

All of a sudden, the anger and hurt from Friday boiled to the front. "So," I seethed. "How was your new boyfriend?" 

Her face fell, and she gave me a stunned look, as if I had slapped her, or slammed the door in her face, as if my response was the last she had expected, or the worst she had feared. Her hands covered her mouth, and she sobbed. I mean, she _sobbed_. 

I don't know what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. I just wanted her to know I was angry, and she was acting like I wanted nothing to do with her. I frantically searched for something to do with the milk and sandwich, and settled on haphazardly placing them on the foyer table just inside the door. I quickly stepped through the threshold and placed my arms around her shoulders. "Hey," I tried to comfort her. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...." Well, I didn't know _what_ I didn't mean to do. I felt like a shit, and I didn't know why. "Hey, look, uh, look, let's sit down." I steered her to the top step of the porch, and helped her sit, then I ducked back to the house, to shut the door. The last thing I needed was mom coming out and making a fuss. 

I sat down next to her. She didn't say anything, just quietly sniffed, and wiped tears away with her hands. I didn't have a handkerchief, but I did have a napkin, and I handed it to her. "Thanks," she said, drying her eyes. 

"Lizzie," I started. "I-I didn't mean to upset you." 

She held up a hand to stop me. "No. I'm sorry. I was...looking forward to Friday night, but I....I'm sorry, I should have called." Hmmmmm. No apology for dumping us, but it was a start, I guess. 

"Miranda and I are worried--" 

"I know," she broke in. "You guys think that I'm replacing you with Kate." That wasn't what I was going to say, but I let her continue. She rubbed her nose with the napkin. "I'm going to have to tell Miranda the same thing, but, you know that I love you and Miranda more than anything, right?" I nodded. "And Kate is...Kate's just...." I tried to _will_ her to finish the thought, but it just died on the air. "Gordo, I'm...going through some stuff. And, it's hard for me...." 

"Well, let me help," I offered. 

"Gordo." She tried several times to continue, her mouth opening, then closing again. "I just need you to be Gordo. That'll help." 

"Well, I'm pretty good at that, McGuire," I assured her. 

She smiled through her tears and hugged me, on the steps of my front porch. "David Gordon," she whispered in my ear. "You're my rock." 

"I thought I was your knight in shining armor," I reminded her. 

She sighed. "Just be my rock." And for once, I was perfectly content. 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

Chapter rated R for language. 

To Piper: "Pulling the curtain back" is a reference to theatre, or drama. Think of it as slowly revealing the stage on which the drama is set. In this case, it means that, very soon, we're going to start to see exactly what the story is about. 

To Elle: Thanks for your comments and questions. I appreciate the opportunity to clear up any misconceptions, and your questions are a hint that I may not be adequately getting the point across in some areas. I'll try to address some of your concerns here. "I really don't understand where you're going with this story." I'm not surprised. I really wouldn't expect anyone to have a true sense of where we might be going, at least not until finishing this chapter (I'm not saying that we're explaining everything today; but the discerning reader may start to get a baaad feeling). This has been intentional. If what you're saying here is that you're getting impatient, I must plead guilty as charged. This also has been somewhat intentional. I realize two things. The first is that The Lizzie McGuire Show is marketed toward, and appeals to, young girls, and by that, I mean 8- to 12-year-olds, and it's reasonable to assume a fair number of young readers at this site. The second is that it seems absurdly easy for underage readers to read R-rated stories here. I would hope that, by now (or more to the point, by the next chapter, when the road map calls for the "sexual situations" side of the story to kick into gear), most of the younger readers would have gotten bored, and moved on. Once that happens, we adults (and perhaps, the more mature teens in the audience, although I'm still a little uncomfortable about this), can turn the lights down low. I don't think of myself as a prude, but this is not your typical R-rated story. I've read approximately 200 of the Lizzie fanfics here, and so far have run across one story that only _hinted_ at where we're going. "It seems like Lizzie's parents are the bad guys..." Can you expand on this a little bit? I really don't gather that they're the bad guys. Oh, wait. Are you thinking that's part of the mystery, and it'll be revealed that they're the bad guys? Well, they may be (heh heh), but I don't think you've been given enough information to reach that conclusion. If that's not what you're thinking, then help me out. "There's no romantic interaction between Lizzie and Gordo." Why does there have to be a romantic interaction? I'm treading as closely as I can, _without_ there being a romance between the two. As soon as these two characters get together romantically, the audience will grow bored with them, as characters. The audience will _promise_ you that it won't, but it will. It's my job as a writer to dangle the possibility in front of you that they might get together, and then _yank_ it away at the last minute, laughing maniacally. "Why does Kate have some sort of hold over Lizzie?" Patience, grasshopper. I'm not prepared to admit yet that she _does_ have a hold over Lizzie, as that's part of the mystery, but if you're correct, the "why" and the "how" would be the whole point of the story. "Why are her parents encouraging this?" I haven't gathered that they're encouraging anything (unless, of course, they're EVIL), they just don't see it as a bad thing. Sam explained in chapter three why they "approve" of Lizzie broadening her circle of friends, that a high school junior who has a grand total of two friends isn't healthy. But we haven't seen any evidence that they're _encouraging_ her, and remember, if Sam is to be believed, they didn't _want_ Lizzie to go to Kate's party; they wanted Lizzie to spend the evening with Gordo and Miranda. Again, thanks for the opportunity to address some of these points. If you're asking these questions, other people probably were, too. Hope you stick around for the ride. 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 5**

They say that life on other planets is a certainty. 

It was early that same Sunday evening, and Lizzie and I were spreading a blanket on her roof, preparing to watch the meteor shower that was scheduled for that night. I wondered if there was an adolescent couple on the planet Glyphnor right this moment, preparing to watch the star Sol show up in their nighttime sky. A cliche, I know, but I don't think it's possible to stargaze with the girl you've known your entire life, and _not_ wonder that. 

We had spent the afternoon with Miranda, at the zoo. I know you'd like to hear that everything was back to normal, that Lizzie was her old self again, but things were much more...tentative, like we were getting to know each other again. 

We lay down on the blanket, and she snuggled close enough to me so that our hips touched. For several moments, neither of us said anything. She was wearing Obsession. She drove me bonkers when she did that. Of course, she had no idea. 

"So, um, whatever happened with Kevin?" 

"Eh," she shrugged. "We went out once. He was a turd." She played with her hair, then said, "Oh, guess what? I got an invitation to some kind of dinner at Chi Omega, UCLA." 

"Whoa," I whistled. "And you were planning on telling me this when?" 

"Well, I dunno," she giggled. "I think it's something where they check me out, see if I'm Chi Omega material. I mean, they _say_ it gives me the opportunity to check _them_ out, but it's probably the other way around. But I don't know if I'm going, yet. My parents haven't said. It would mean spending the night up there, so.... I don't even know how they got my name." 

"But you're looking at UCLA?" 

"Yeah, I think so. They have a good Fashion Design program, and my Art teacher graduated from there and loved it. Plus, it's UCLA." She watched the darkening sky. "But it's a long way off." 

"Still. Sorority socials...." 

"Look," she nudged me, pointing to the sky. "First star." 

"Actually," I corrected her, "that's a meteor, or even a--" 

She gave me a tired look. "Gordo." 

"You're right," I nodded. "First star." I didn't have to give my wish a moment's thought. _I wished Lizzie would open up to us, trust us. I wished I could hear Lizzie laugh, without worrying that she was going to cry the next moment. I wished I could have the old Lizzie back, the Lizzie who had peeled goop off my face when the fake volcano exploded in fourth grade, the Lizzie who had taught me to dance in junior high, the Lizzie who had consoled me when my grandmother died last year. God, I just wished Lizzie would be okay._

Time passed, most of it with small talk, like my discovery on eBay Friday afternoon of the night-shot lens I had been searching for, for years. Like her brother's most recent obsession. Like who Ethan, or Claire, or even Tudgeman had been seen with that summer. 

It was night, now, and we were picking out the major constellations. 

"Oooh, there," Lizzie pointed excitedly. "See the circle of stars there, on top? And the squiggly snaky line running under it?" 

"Uh huh." 

"That's Charlie Brown." 

"Okay. Good one." It took me a moment for my turn. "All right. I see Britney Spears." 

She squinted at me. "You do not." 

"Yeah, see?" I pointed to the southwest. "That arc there reminds me of the curve of her--" 

"Stop!" she held her hand up and playfully pulled my face to the side, down to the blanket, facing her. "You think the linoleum in my kitchen floor looks like Britney Spears." I shrugged. She had a point. She looked up, sighing. "All right. See those two straight lines of stars, running up and down, sort of parallel?" 

"Mmmhmm," I nodded. 

"Avril Lavigne." 

"Wicked, McGuire," I chastised her, and she scrunched up her nose at me. 

Later still, clouds had started to move in. It had gotten chillier, but Lizzie wasn't ready to go in. Instead, she snuggled up closer to me for warmth, and I wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders. 

"Lizzie?" I asked her. 

"Yeah?" 

"When I think about what it's gonna be like, in a couple of years, when you and I and Miranda are going to different schools, maybe scattered across the country, I can't picture that, you know? I can't even breathe." 

"I don't want to think about it," she said, sounding half asleep. "It's forever and ever away from here. It's an eternity away." 

I unashamedly leaned over and kissed her forehead gently, then returned to reclining on my back. _Our sweet Lizzie._

"Lizzie?" I asked her again. 

"Hmmm?" 

"First star tonight. What did you wish for?" 

She turned back to study what was left of the stars, as a cloud moved to cover the quarter-moon, then she lowered her eyes, and her voice was as light as the breeze that blew those clouds. "Wishes are for kids," she told me. 

* * 

I went out on a date that Tuesday night, with Kelly Tremont, a cute sophomore in the flag corps. It was no big deal, just a dinner at a pretty nice Tex-Mex restaurant, and I'm not going to bother with the details here, but there's one thing you need to know. 

When I took her home, she made a point of telling me how much she enjoyed the evening. I took the opportunity of asking her out again for Friday night, when we could stay out later. She got real reluctant, and said she'd have to think about it, that she'd have to ask her parents, that her family was going to the mountains for the weekend, that a nuclear explosion might destroy the Earth before Friday. 

Okay, I made that last one up, but the point is, how do you go from "I had loads of fun tonight," (which seems to be an invitation) to "maybe we're not right for each other," in the span of eighty seconds? And here's my theory. In femspeak, one date means you're "hanging out." Two consecutive dates means you're "seeing each other." And here's my catch-22: There's not a woman in the world who can accept having a boyfriend whose two best friends are girls. 

Which means I'm just fucked. 

* * 

Wednesday was the day that things started to get seriously strange. It was at lunch, and I was telling the guys (by that, I mean the girls) about my date. They sympathized about my being rejected for Friday night, so I suggested we get together, instead. 

"Sorry, guys," Miranda told us. "Can't. My parents are taking me to Anthony's for my birthday." 

"Your birthday was last month," I pointed out. 

"Yeah, but this was what I wanted, and this is as soon as they could get the reservations." 

I turned to Lizzie. "So, McGuire?" 

She gave me a sympathetic smile. "My family is flying out to Colorado Friday afternoon for my grandfather's birthday. He hasn't been doing very well. This might be his last birthday." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "So, when will you get back?" 

"Well, I'm sorta...not...going. I told my folks that tryouts for the volleyball team are Saturday morning, and that I had to be there, to make the team." 

"Oh. Okay. Well, then, how about Friday night?" 

She hesitated. "I don't think so, Gordo. Some of the neighbors might get the wrong idea." I had been alone with her late at night plenty of times before, but we were in junior high then. "But I'm free Sunday. What do you say, guys?" 

"Let's go to the water park," Miranda suggested. 

"Oh, that would be awesome," Lizzie agreed. "Especially since last time, we had be bring Matt and Melina along." 

It was at that moment that Kate joined us, sitting on the other side of Lizzie from Miranda. "Lizzie," she said, ignoring Miranda and me. "I _so_ need your help." 

"What is it?" Lizzie asked, finishing off the last of her brownie. 

"I've completely filled up my last scrapbook, and I was starting another one during lunch, and I'm having a kind of writer's block, thinking of what the right motif would be. I mean, starting junior year, and all? I mean, usually, I wouldn't ask, but everything I can think of, I've already done! You're not bad....I mean, you're pretty good with style, and fashion. Just come over to the table and make some suggestions for colors and textures, okay? I mean, I'm just looking for something to get me jump-started, you know?" 

Lizzie had turned to face Kate and didn't see Miranda making a face like she smelled sour milk. She started to pick up the remains of her lunch. "Um, look, you guys don't mind, do you?" she asked us. "Lunch is almost over anyway." 

I shrugged. "Sure." 

"Go for it," Miranda chimed half-heartedly. After Lizzie and Kate left us alone (Kate giving us an elfish grin over her shoulder) Miranda turned to me. "What was that all about? Scrapbook?" 

No sooner had Lizzie joined Kate and several cheerleaders than Claire, returning from emptying her tray, helped herself to Lizzie's vacant seat. "Awwww, poor little boy," her voice tender, but her eyes gleaming. She poured some salt on the table and twirled her finger through it in tiny circles, but her eyes never left mine. "Should've made your move, while you had a chance." I refused to be baited. Then her eyes shifted, to focus on Lizzie, three tables down. "Look at her," she instructed, and my gaze followed hers. Lizzie was surrounded by a half-dozen of the most beautiful girls in the school, and she was the center of attention. They were giggling and whooping, fawning over her and going through some of Kate's old scrapbooks. Lizzie looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed by all the special attention. "She's popular now," Claire observed. "She's living her dream; it's what she's always wished for." I looked back at Claire. "And she's not just popular with us, you know. She's becoming _very_ popular with the guys." 

"Blow it out your ass, Claire," Miranda spat. "That's enough!" 

"That's very outre, Miranda," Claire responded calmly. "When we were in junior high." She looked back at me, her smile vanished now. "Give it up," she warned. "Lizzie belongs to us, now. Don't worry," she raised one eyebrow appraisingly. "We'll take good care of her." With that, she left our table and joined the rest of the clique. 

* * 

I had figured out what was going on. Kate and Claire and all the others were just leading Lizzie on. They didn't care about her. They just wanted to destroy her friendship with Miranda and I, and once their mission was accomplished, they'd dump her. I had determined that the time had come to confront Kate. Miranda and I talked about it in Biology, and she told me that Lizzie was going to the library that afternoon to do research on a report in American History. 

It was approaching four o'clock when I pulled up into Kate's driveway. I parked behind two other cars that I didn't recognize. I stepped onto the porch and knocked briskly on the door. When no one answered after about thirty seconds, I was about to knock again when the door opened wide, and I was face to face with Lizzie. She was dressed differently from school, now wearing a short denim skirt, dark blue blouse, and white vest. It was an...odd ensemble for her, but she still looked nice, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. Just loungin' around with the girls. 

"Gordo?" she looked at me with a puzzled expression. She glanced over her shoulder. Down a short wide hallway, you could see into the dining room, where Kate and some of her posse were clustered. Kate and Amber noticed me and approached as Lizzie turned back to me. "What are you doing here?" 

"Yes, Gordo," Kate called, joining us at the door. "What are you doing here?" 

I was at least as confused to find Lizzie here as she was to see me, but I plunged ahead. "I came over to tell you I know what you're doing. You're just using Lizzie. All you want is to cause heartache for her, and once you've gotten your jollies, you'll dump her. You've done this before, and I'm tired of it, and I want you to leave her alone." 

Lizzie's expression was inscrutable, but Kate was clearly amused. "You think I'm _using_ Lizzie?" she laughed, and by now, two more girls, Claire and Jennifer, had made their way down the hallway. Then I noticed that it wasn't just girls. A boy had passed into my line of sight in the dining room, carrying a tray of uncooked burgers to the door leading to the backyard pool, and to our right, in the den, two more guys were caught up in a football game on ESPN Classic. They were all older. Kate's frat boys. 

I had planned on a one-on-one confrontation, but now Kate had the upper hand. 

Kate's deadly smile morphed into a poisonous glare. "Listen to me, you little shit. I will _not_ be dumping her, and she knows it. She belongs to _our_ group now, and she'll stay here. So why don't you just toddle on off to your androgynous girlfriend and let us have Lizzie?" 

I took a half-step into the house and lowered my voice. "I'll let you have Lizzie. When you pry her from my cold, dead fingers." 

"Ooooooo," Claire and the other onlookers chanted. I expected Lizzie to hit the roof with both of us, for talking about her, as if she wasn't there. Hell, I expected her to be madder at me, because you come to expect it from Kate; I should have known better. Instead, Lizzie just stood there, her hand still on the doorknob, no anger on her face, only anxiety. She was blushing, though. 

I was distracted by a squeal of tires behind me. I turned and looked out onto the driveway to see a dark red sportscar screech to a halt next to my car. Two more well dressed, well kept frat boys leapt from the car, the passenger carrying a case of beer. "Mighty Hunter has returned!" the driver cheered loudly as he swept into the foyer beside me. He clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a friendly grin. "Hey, man, how's it going?" 

He held out his hand for a shake, and I grasped it. Before I could answer, his partner muscled his way in on his path to the kitchen. "Comin' through, comin' through." 

"Ted McKeithen," the driver introduced himself. 

"David Gordon," I responded. "Call me Gordo." I wanted to hate him immediately, but I couldn't. He was a likable guy. 

"So, you're Gordo," he observed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lizzie's mentioned you. Hey, man, listen, have you given any thought to going to SDSU?" 

"Honestly, not really," I shrugged, forgetting why I was here. "If I stay close to home, I'll probably check out USC, for the film--" 

"Awww, no, man," he interrupted. "Naw, you don't wanna go there. Nothin' but queers go there!" He called to one of the guys in the den. "Hey, Bear, tell Gordo here who he'll find at USC!" 

From the den came a disembodied, barrel-chested voice: "Queers, man! Nothin' but queers!" 

Ted looked at me and shrugged, as if his point had been proven. I grinned. "Seriously, man, come over and check out the campus. Give me a call at the house, let me know. I'll give you the tour. No hairy-legged feminists at SDSU." He wrapped his arm around Lizzie's waist and pulled her to him. "Isn't that right, Peachy?" She looked down and away from him. Suddenly, I found it a little easier to dislike him. He jumped as if he had just remembered something, but he never took his hand off Lizzie's hip. "Oh, hey, you're sticking around for the party, right? We'll throw on another couple of burgers." 

"Uh, I--" 

"Uh, no!" Kate blurted, panicked at the thought that I might be hitting it off with her boy toys. "He, uh, he wouldn't fit in." 

"Awww, sure he would!" Ted protested, continuing to tug Lizzie closer to him. "Gordo's a straight up guy, right?" He looked to me, but I didn't know what to say. 

"All right," Kate conceded. "I'll tell you what." She was giving me an appraising smile, and it made my skin crawl. "Gordo's here for Lizzie. Let's let Lizzie decide." Lizzie turned to Kate like a frightened deer at the mention of her name. "Lizzie, would you like Gordo to stay for the party?" 

In my fantasies, she turns to me and licks her lips, and says, "Gordo, help me. Take me home. I want to get away from this. I want to be in my own home, in my own room. I want to wake up tomorrow, knowing that my true friends will always be there for me. And I want to always be there for you. Take me home. Save me." 

But that was just my fantasy. What she said was, "Gordo, go home." 

Claire and Jennifer cheered loudly and high-fived each other, while Kate just looked on triumphantly. Ted shrugged and said, "Sorry, guy. Better luck next time." 

I didn't know what to say. If Lizzie truly didn't want me there, then I was wasting my time. And while I'd like to convince myself that Lizzie looked uncomfortable with Ted draped all over her, I had to accept the possibility that she was uncomfortable, not with Ted, but with my being there to see it. Totally dejected and defeated, I turned and walked outside. I didn't see Lizzie close the door, but I heard it. I wanted to beat my head against the hood of my car, over and over. 

I dropped into the driver's seat of my car, and I could see Kate smiling at me through the plate glass window in the living room. And that smile changed everything. I was _this close_ to saying, _Fuck this. Fuck girls. And fuck Lizzie McGuire! I've tried every avenue I know to help her, and she keeps closing the door on me. If she wants this attention from all those assholes, then fuck her._ And then that smile, the one that said, "I win again!", and I thought, _Oh, no, Kate. It's not...that...easy. Lizzie and I have been through life and death, heaven and hell together, and I will **not** give up on Lizzie McGuire._

Next: The kid gloves come off, along with other articles. 


	6. Chapter 6

Authors notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

Final warning. 

Rated R for language, violence and sexual situations. 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 6**

They say that life is like a game of cards: The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will. 

I called Miranda that night, after dinner, and explained my encounter at Kate's. "I'm at a loss, Miranda," I told her. "I can't understand why she wants to hang around them." 

Miranda sighed dramatically. "Gordo, when it comes to Lizzie, you've never been able to see what's right in front of you." 

"Hunh? What are you talking about?" 

She paused, then said, "Never mind. Look, _Daredevil_, obviously, she _doesn't_ want to hang around them." 

"Then why doesn't she just walk away?" I protested. "Instead of pushing me out?" 

"Well, that's the whole point, isn't it?" Miranda pounced on me. "Why is she insisting on doing stuff that's tearing her up, inside? That's what I've been trying to figure out by myself, since you took off for JPL." 

"Miranda, I never..." 

She gasped. "Oh, Gordo, I'm sorry. I don't mean it like that. I just...I went through the whole summer, by myself, trying to help Lizzie, trying to get her to tell me what the problem was, and I just.... I just thought that when you got back, she'd go back to being Lizzie. I was sure you could fix it." 

"We _will_ fix it, Miranda," I promised her. "We haven't given up yet." 

She was right. The evidence had been in front of me, that Lizzie was, at best, a reluctant member of Kate's clique. The crying. The stress that she spoke of. The mortification that Lizzie seemed to feel when dealing with Kate and Miranda and I, all at the same time. And what of the "pod person Lizzie" behavior? The lies? Changing plans at the last minute? Preferring Kate's company to ours? Was "reluctant" truly the best word for Lizzie's newfound friendship with Kate? Or did "unwilling" seem to fit the bill better? And then something clicked in my mind, from the week before, something I'd been mentally turning over and over, like when you can't resist running your tongue over a cavity, even though you know it brings mind-popping pain, every time you do it. 

"Miranda, why would Lizzie turn down Kate's invitation last Friday, in no uncertain terms, and then panic, when it looked like her parents wouldn't let her go to that same party?" 

Miranda, who, truth be told, has always been the insightful one among us, paused for a moment, placing herself in Lizzie's mind. "Because she was afraid of what would happen, if she didn't go." 

At that moment, there was a beep on the line, indicating another call coming through. I put Miranda on hold, and answered it. "Hello?" 

"Gordo?" came that same breathless whisper that I'd heard three months earlier. "Do you hate me?" 

"No, Lizzie, I--hey, I don't care anything about those guys." 

There was a pause, then she said, "Gordo, the thing is...." and didn't finish. 

"Listen, Miranda's on the other line. Do you mind if we three-way?" 

Another pause, then, "Sure." 

I pushed the switchhook, then said, "Miranda? Lizzie's on." 

"Hey, doll," Miranda tried to sound perky. 

"Hey," Lizzie returned, subdued. "Gordo, you shouldn't have come over to Kate's." 

I got a little steamed that she would chastise me over that. "Yeah, well, you shouldn't have lied to Miranda," I confronted her. 

"Gordo!" Miranda scolded me. "You're outta line." 

"I'm sorry," I responded. "I just--" 

"No, Gordo," Lizzie interrupted me. "You're right. I'm sorry, Miranda. I.... You know what? We've been apologizing to each other way too much, lately. I...I know I've been...mistreating both of you. I'm going through some stuff right now. And I know you want to help me, but you can't." 

"You say it like it's fate," I told her. 

"It's not fate," she whispered. "I do the deed, I have to...accept the consequences." 

"Lizzie, don't cry," Miranda pleaded. I hadn't realized Lizzie _was_ crying, until Miranda brought it up. 

"I'm trying," Lizzie continued, "but it's hard." I didn't know if she was talking about the crying, or something else. 

"Lizzie," I said. "I'm not going to just sit around and watch somebody tear out your heart. Kate's just going to--" 

"Gordo, you have to promise me that you'll stay away from Kate. I'm begging you." 

"No, I promise to do whatever it takes to bring the real Lizzie McGuire back to us." 

"But going to Kate won't do that," she cautioned me. "You'll just hurt me." 

"Don't go there, Lizzie," I warned her. "Don't try to lay a guilt trip on me." 

"Uh, guys?" Miranda chimed in, sensing the need for a peacemaker, but before she could continue, Lizzie barked out a laugh, which wasn't what I expected. 

"You got a real super power for saying the right thing, don't you?" she sobbed. "When you get a clue, call me." And with that, she clicked off. 

After a long moment, Miranda observed, "That went well." 

"Kate has some kind of hold on her," I deduced. 

"You think?" 

"Miranda," I sighed. "Why don't we save a lot of time, and you just tell me what's going on?" 

"I don't know. I think we can figure out the who, the what, the when and the where. But I don't think any of those matter. It's the how and the why that'll save Lizzie." 

"Miranda?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What did you mean, when you said I've never been able to see what's in front of me, when it comes to Lizzie?" 

"You're pretty smart," she told me. "You'll figure it out someday." 

* * 

The next two days, Lizzie was...aloof. We talked, but we didn't connect. Two days of watching Lizzie spend lunch with Kate's horde hurt. But the thing is, I don't think she enjoyed it any more than Miranda or I. I never saw her say anything, and I watched pretty closely. It was like she was just a decoration, or a hood ornament. In fact, she looked miserable. 

Miranda and I were at the Digital Bean after school Friday, and I told her my intentions to try to patch things up with Lizzie. She asked me if that meant I was giving up. 

"I think it has something to do with respect," I tried to explain. 

"I don't get it," she said, taking a sip from her latte. 

"Lizzie has some kind of problem going on here. She says she needs to work it out by herself. Is it the job of a friend to insist on helping, even when we're asked to stand back?" I shook my head. "I don't think it is. I think it's our job to let her know that we're here for her, if she needs us, and then respect her wishes. I think the only things that friends have to offer for each other are love, support, and respect." 

"I guess I'm selfish, then," Miranda confided. "Because I'm afraid if I stand back, I'll lose Lizzie." 

"And I'm afraid if we don't, she's already lost." 

* * 

I stopped by the house on the way to Lizzie's, expecting to only feed the fish, but when I saw the package leaning against the front door, I'm ashamed to say everything else slipped my mind. What had become my Holy Grail, the Sony nightshot, had arrived. 

I ripped open the carton and glanced over the note attached from the eBay seller. There was a disclaimer that said sometimes the record button stuck, and you had to push the stop button a couple of times, and some of the onscreen indicators didn't work, but other than that, it worked like new when it went into the box. 

There was still too much light out to make it anything other than a regular camera, but I entered the den, closed the curtains, powered up the Sony, and peered through the viewfinder. 

It was amazing. It wasn't that it was lighter, or brighter, than the ambient light, but somehow, you could make out details that were impossible to discern, without the camera. I mean, without the camera, you could tell there was a Time magazine on the coffee table, but with it, you could read the copy on the cover. Everything had a green tint, and I imagine watching it over an extended time would give me a headache, but it was still...amazing. 

I spent the next two hours trying it out on everything in the house. I had to replace the battery twice. My parents came home from work without my realizing it. When my mom called me down for dinner, I realized how much time had gotten away from me, and it was almost dark. 

Almost Dark. A whole new world was ready for me. I was too excited to worry about eating. "Later, Mom," I called out to her, as I stepped out onto the porch, camera in hand. And as I walked across the porch, I was hit by an image. An image of Lizzie and me, sitting side by side on the top step, hugging each other. I could see the tears falling down her cheeks (although I couldn't have seen them that Sunday), as she heard me promise to be her rock. You'll never understand the guilt I felt then, realizing that I had forgotten about Lizzie's problem long enough to engage in my own pleasure. 

I looked down at the camera in my hand. Maybe it could serve as a conversational opening, lead the way to my asking for forgiveness, and from there, offering my love, and support, and yes, respect, to my best friend. 

I was pulling the car keys out of my pocket when I remembered. It was Friday night. Lizzie's family was in Colorado, and Lizzie was at home alone. It would hardly do to show up on her doorstep, in front of all the neighbors, when she had specifically asked me to lay low Friday night, for propriety's sake. But what I had to say, couldn't be said over the phone, and I wasn't waiting until the next day. If Lizzie didn't want the neighbors to talk, that problem could be solved. Lizzie's yard backed up to a wooded lot. I could enter from the block behind her house. And if a neighbor did happen to notice, well, we didn't have to go inside; we could talk on the deck. 

I had to go out of my way to get there, walking around the block. It was a moonless night, and I almost missed the overgrown pathway that Lizzie and I had used countless times in third and fourth grade to get to and from the convenience store where we would buy comics and slurpies. She liked Betty and Veronica; I liked Iron Man. I hesitated to draw on the camera's battery, but it was the only way to make my way through the underbrush. The lot had grown over a lot more than I remembered. 

I could make out muted music coming from Lizzie's before the house came into sight, and the glow from the backyard lights started to light my way, but I compulsively kept my eye to the viewfinder. Through the green and white lens, I noticed movement on the patio. 

My heart plunged when I recognized the boy in the lawn chair: Ted McKeithen. Sitting in his lap was Lizzie. She had her back to him, but her face was tilted back over her shoulder, and they were kissing. He had his right hand on her hip, and his left rested on her knee, circling to the inside. Her hands lay serenely on her bare thighs. She was dressed in a Catholic school girl outfit with a shorter skirt than natural, something I never knew she owned. I recognized the song on the stereo: "Can I Touch You" by 112. 

I didn't feel right recording this, so I stopped it, but I left the power on, I kept watching. The camera's zoom allowed me to see detail I couldn't otherwise. Miranda and I had already concluded she was an unwilling participant. So did I continue watching to make sure that it didn't get out of hand, or was I somehow...excited...by this previously private side of Lizzie? You'll have to reach your own conclusions. I can only tell you that I look back on this, this whole night, and I have no pride in *anything* I did, but I think you need to know. You need to know that I was never the hero that Lizzie liked to think of me as. I was just a...a scared-ass kid, I guess. 

The hand that had been on Lizzie's hip snaked its way up to the buttons on her blouse, and began to unhook two, then three of the buttons in the middle. Then Ted slid his hand into that opening. Lizzie squirmed a little, and her hands gripped the hem of her skirt, but she never broke the kiss. I lowered the camera. I didn't need to see these details. 

The sliding glass door leading into Lizzie's den opened, and Kate and another guy walked through, this one unfamiliar. But then again, I couldn't make out enough detail without the camera to know, and the camera had grown too heavy to lift. This new arrival reached out with one hand and tousled Lizzie's hair, saying, "Save some for me, Princess," and Kate chuckled. 

Now the hand on Lizzie's knee began exploring, weaving its way higher up her thighs, then between them. When it reached the hem of her skirt, it stopped briefly, then continued. Lizzie moved her hands from atop her thighs to intercept him, struggling with her molester. 

"Lizzieeee," Kate issued a warning, and Lizzie relented. Ted's hand disappeared under the skirt. 

I was starting to get light-headed, and beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. This couldn't be happening. _Not to Lizzie_. It felt surreal, like a nightmare. 

They stayed like that for several moments, with Ted groping her, until finally the song on the stereo came to an end. He ended the kiss, and Lizzie finally faced forward and hung her head, her hair falling over her face, hiding it. "Your kissing's gotten a lot better, Peachy," he told her. 

Kate looked on. "Aren't you going to thank him, slut?" she prompted. If Lizzie replied, I couldn't hear it. 

"Hey, man," the new guy spoke to Ted. "Why do you call her Peachy?" 

I couldn't make out Ted's response, but both Kate and the guy laughed uproariously, while Lizzie buried her face in her hands and shuddered. 

"Get up, Lizzie," Kate instructed her. 

Lizzie brushed her face with her hands and lifted herself off of Ted's lap. Ted tossed his hands up in exasperation. "Aw, come on, Kate!" 

"Oh, get a hooker," Kate chided him. "I want to see what Paul can cook up tonight." She looked back to Lizzie. "Ready to put on tonight's show, sweetie?" 

Again, I couldn't make out Lizzie's reply, but it must have satisfied them, because the guy Kate had called Paul bent over and picked up Lizzie in a fireman's carry, tossing her over his shoulder. I don't think firemen were trained to carry people like that, though. He flipped up the back of her skirt, revealing her panties, and fondled her as he walked back through the sliding door, followed by Kate. Ted remained in the lawn chair briefly, sipping a beer, then rose and followed the others. A few moments later, I heard cheers, followed by the sound of the glass door closing. 

I sunk down to my knees and threw up. After hacking and spitting the bad taste out of my mouth, I crawled several feet away, then finally climbed to my feet and ran home, tears burning my eyes. 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

Chapter Rated R for language and sexual situations. 

Minor grammatical errors corrected in previous chapters. No other changes. 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 7**

They say that life's a bitch, and then you die. 

I was slumped in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, in the dark. On the table in front of me sat the Sony camcorder, the unblinking, accusing eye of its lens staring back at me. An hour earlier, it had started beeping, alerting me that its battery was winding down. 

I finally gathered the strength to reach out and pop open the camera and pulled out the tape. The tape had completely played out, and reached the end. Hunh. I had forgotten. Have to push the stop button several times. That meant everything had ended up being recorded, although the lens would have pointed to the ground for most of it. I fingered one edge of the tape cartridge. That little fourteen-dollar piece of plastic contained the end of my innocence. Oh, God, was this what life had been like for Lizzie, the past three months? Groped, fondled, almost certainly raped? 

_"So, how was your new boyfriend?"_ I had confronted her after the party last weekend. With the memory of her shock and hurt at my anger came the urge to throw up again. I leaned forward, and rested my head between my knees, but there was nothing left in my stomach to release. With that comment, had I hurt her as badly as any of those other bastards? 

The nausea eventually passed, and my eyes refocused on the tape in my hands. 

Was it fate? Fate that the nightshot arrived when it did? Fate that I brought it with me to Lizzie's? Fate that it kept recording, even after I tried to stop it? Could something on that tape help me save the day? It would mean watching that lingering kiss that never ended, viewing the hand that slithered into her blouse and kneaded one breast, hearing her muffled sob as Kate ordered her not to defend herself, making out the answer to why he called her Peachy.... 

Gasping, crying, I slid a fingernail inside the cartridge and ripped out the tape from its track. I yanked out more, and more still. My arm grew weary from the constant motion of pulling, until finally I reached the end of the spool. I tried to snap the tape in two, to prevent anyone from ever witnessing Lizzie's humiliation, but it defied my efforts. Undeterred, I swept up the mound of tape and opened the microwave. My mom had left my dinner in the microwave for me to heat up later. I pulled out the tray, dumped the food in the garbage, tossed the tape in, slammed the door, and nuked it. 

Fate was a tempting devil, and it could go to Hell. I didn't believe in fate. 

I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Ten o'clock. Miranda would be home from her dinner. In fact, her parents had probably already turned in. I picked up the phone and punched in her number. She answered before the first ring had finished. "Hello?" 

"Miranda, I'm coming over." 

"Did you talk to Lizzie?" 

"I'm coming over." 

* * 

The first thing she said when she greeted me at her door was, "Gordo, you look awful!" 

I entered the house. "Are your parents asleep?" I asked her. 

She shook her head. "I don't think so. Watching TV in bed." 

I nodded toward the door under the stairway. "In the basement." 

When we reached the bottom of the steps, she turned the lights on in the basement, then turned to face me, with her hands on her hips. "Okay, why the secrecy?" 

"Because I don't want anyone else to hear what I'm about to tell you." When she didn't respond, I continued. "Miranda, you have to be strong. We both do. Because I don't think I'm strong enough to handle this, by myself." I almost broke down near the end, but managed to get everything under control. "I think about Lizzie...and how strong she's had to be, by herself...." 

"Okay," Miranda said, breathing deeply. "You're scaring me." 

I nodded. "I'm scared." I took her elbow and guided her to the couch. "We need to sit down." 

I didn't have the words to explain to her, other than just to tell her what happened. I saw the tears forming in her eyes when I described Lizzie in Ted's lap, kissing him. "Omigod," she breathed. I think on some level, she knew then how my story would end, but she still gasped in shock when I described how his hands moved over Lizzie's flesh, and the tears were running down her cheeks. Every time I paused, she just repeated the same thing, over and over. "omigod. omigod." I held nothing back--Miranda deserved to know everything I did--and when I got to the degrading comments that the others made about Lizzie, and finished with the cheers coming from inside the house, Miranda was a nervous wreck. She burst from the couch and stumbled to the bathroom in the back. 

I left her alone for a few minutes, but when she didn't come back out, I walked across the den to the bathroom, and looked through the door she had left open. She was sitting back on her knees, in front of the toilet, coughing. I went to her, and sat on the floor next to her, and we fell into each other's arms. "Why, Gordo?" she sobbed into my shoulder. "Why Lizzie?" 

"I don't know," I told her, holding her tightly and rubbing her back to comfort her. 

"Lizzie is so...she's so..." Miranda tried, then gave up. "This isn't supposed to happen to Lizzie," she cried. "Lizzie's supposed to...Lizzie's the princess. She finds Prince Charming in the end." She sighed, then spat, "Kate," and the anger in her voice made her shiver in my arms. She released me, and covered her mouth with her hand, sniffing. "I have to..." she mumbled to herself, then rose from the floor, and as she left the bathroom, I heard her say, "Daddy's study." 

I picked myself up from the floor, closed the lid to the toilet and sat, running my hands through my hair. _Daddy's study_? I burst back into the basement den. Empty. The door at the top of the steps was open. I raced up the steps, then down the hallway to her father's study. Miranda was there, tugging viciously on the top right hand drawer of his desk, where he kept a handgun. "Goddammit!" she moaned in frustration. "Fuck! What's the use of these things, if you can't get to them!" She kicked the desk violently, chipping off one corner of the leg, but doing no damage to the lock. I started toward her, but she backed away. "Stay back! Don't touch me." 

I held my arms out to my side. "What are you doing?" 

"Solving the problem," she told me emotionlessly. 

"No, you're not. You use that gun, and they'll lock you away." 

She shrugged. "And Lizzie'll be free." 

"I'm not going to get Lizzie back, and lose you at the same time." I approached her, and this time she didn't back away. I took her in my arms again, and she seemed to collapse against me. "I won't allow that." 

"But, Gordo, Lizzie's still there, right now, and--" 

"Shhhh," I told her. "I know how you--" 

She stiffened against me and said, "Stop! Don't say it. Don't tell me you know how I feel, because you can't." 

"You're right," I agreed. "I can't." 

"Gordo. I don't want to wait anymore. I don't want to give her time. I don't want to express my love and devotion, and then sit in the background while she gets abused and degraded. I want to save Lizzie." 

I released her, not for the last time that night, and reached up to cup her face in my hands, using my thumbs to brush the tears--and not the last tears for that night--from the corners of her eyes. Such soulful eyes. Her resolve steeled mine. 

"We've been in the dark too long," I told her. "The time has come for us to learn the truth." 

To be continued... 

**Author's note**: Please forgive me if there's a longer pause before the next chapter. It's not writer's block; I know where we're going, but the IRS beckons. 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

Chapter rated R for language, violence, nudity, and sexual situations 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 8**

They say that life is just this: it's living, and you have to go on living. At least, that's what the writers of Buffy would have us believe. 

It was the middle of Saturday morning when Lizzie opened the front door, to find Miranda and I on the doorstep. She looked as if she had only had a few hours sleep. We probably looked the same. 

"Hey, guys," she said in a tired voice. 

"Hi," I returned. "Can we come in?" 

"It's not a good time, guys," she told us. "I'm trying to get some sleep." 

"Lizzie," Miranda pleaded. "We have to talk. It can't wait." 

Lizzie pursed her lips, then stepped back and opened the door wide for us. We followed her into the kitchen. "Excuse the mess," she apologized, gradually slipping into her sunshiny persona, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the grapefruit juice. "You know me...putting things off 'til the last minute. As long as I can get the place cleaned up before my folks get home tomorrow afternoon, I won't be grounded too badly." There was only one pizza box on the kitchen table, but there was more than one beer can in the trash. I don't know if she noticed that, but we knew Lizzie didn't drink beer. She had tried it once last year, and said it tasted like warm cow pee. 

"What about volleyball tryouts?" Miranda asked. 

"I...changed my mind," Lizzie responded, rubbing her forehead. 

Miranda looked to me. We had spent most of the night before, planning how to handle this. "Lizzie," I said gently, "I need to be honest with you." She watched me, her face expressionless. "I came by, last night. To apologize." 

For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then she must have recognized the hurt and anguish in my eyes, because her face slowly transformed. Her eyebrows dropped, her chin trembled, her shoulders sagged, and then she burst into tears. "Did you enjoy the show?" she sobbed. 

What she said didn't hurt me. I don't think she meant it to hurt me. I think it was just a release of emotions that she had kept pent up for so many weeks, perhaps shame, perhaps misplaced guilt. I wasn't naive enough to think it was relief. It had to be her worst nightmare to realize that Miranda and I knew what she had been doing, what she had been somehow forced to do. 

Miranda rushed to Lizzie and wrapped her arms around her, as she covered her face with her hands. I wanted that to be me. I wanted to be the one that wrapped my arms around her, protected her from the storm. But we both sensed that Lizzie might not welcome intimate physical contact from a male at that moment. 

Miranda led Lizzie to the back stairway leading to the second floor. Lizzie sat down on the second step, Miranda on the one below. Lizzie looked at me through the railing, the slats casting a shadow of bars across her face. "You think I'm a whore?" she asked me. 

"No, milady," I answered. "I think you a princess, and I, a simple knight, in your service." 

She favored me with a sad smile. "There are no knights, good sir. Only dragons." 

A long pause filled the room between us. "Can you tell us what happened?" I asked, slipping into a chair at the dining room table. "Help us understand?" 

She leaned her head back, until it touched the wall behind her, then rolled her head from side to side, watching the ceiling. "Maybe you _should_ think I'm a whore. It would be better than the truth." 

And she told us her story. It didn't sound like Lizzie. Most of it was in a dead monotone. She rarely looked at either of us, I across the room, Miranda sitting with her. She just stared out into space, perhaps because she was afraid to see our reactions. Sometimes, she slurred her words in the really bad parts, like she had to struggle to open her mouth to get the words out, but I think she told it all, needed to tell it all. 

* * 

"It was Memorial Day. Kevin Cartman had asked me out...we were going to The Hillside Landing, to watch the fireworks. I had to babysit that evening--the Moody's had a company party--and they wouldn't be getting in until about eight. The fireworks started at nine, so I had told Kevin that I would change at the Moody's, and drive to his house, and we could leave from there. I was so nervous on the way to the Landing. I had pined over Kevin for four months--you guys know that--but _he_ couldn't have. But he had asked me out, like he had picked up waves from me, or something. As we were driving up The Hill, I watched him, hoping I wasn't staring. It was magic. I was wearing a light green sundress, cause I thought it went well with my eyes; he was in black jeans and a khaki shirt. 

"He parked on the curve. You know the one, on the top of the ridge. We got a blanket out of the trunk, and carefully made our way a little stretch down the slope. You know, it's kind of steep, and at one point--he was below me and leading the way, holding my hand--one of my feet slipped out from under me, and I went stumbling into him, almost knocking him over. I felt like an idiot. I thought, he either thinks I'm a total klutz, or he thinks I did it intentionally, and I didn't know which was worse. But we were face to face, our bodies pressed against each other, and I looked up at him, and I drowned in his eyes. Miranda, he was sooo cute. 

"We spread out the blanket and sat there, watching the fireworks. It reminded me of when the three of us were kids. The colors were so...majestic. Everything seemed larger than life. He kissed me. Just once, though. After the show was over, he asked if I wanted to go to this dance club, The Saturn. I reminded him we were both underage, and he said it was no problem, that they stamp your hand at the door. No stamp, no beer. Well, there was no stamp, but plenty of beer. He had two, and the waitress offered me one, but I took a Sprite. We danced some, and talked a lot. He told me which classes to avoid this year, and he tried to convince me to get certified for a lifeguard position at the beach. 

"Anyway, after our fourth dance set...I _think_ it was the fourth.... Doesn't matter. We had finished a dance, and I suddenly realized how worn out I was. I felt like I do sometimes in the middle of my period. Tired and sleepy. I thought it was the stress from watching the twins that afternoon. I kind of stumbled back to my table, and plopped down in the chair. I apologized to him, explained that I usually had more energy than that. I didn't know if I was coming down with something, but I asked him to take me back to his place, so I could get home. It was about eleven, and I thought there was still time to call you, Miranda, and squeal about my magical date. 

"He had to help me to the car. I leaned against him in the parking lot, then leaned against the side of his Subaru as he unlocked my door, and helped me in. The perfect gentleman. On the way to his house, I fell asleep. I had a dream. I dreamed Kevin and I were on the side of the Hill, on the blanket, watching Titanic on a giant-screen TV. Only, all the performers were wearing cowboy and indian costumes, and they talked with Italian accents. And then it was me on the screen I was watching. I kept asking Leonardo DiCaprio, 'Can you get it up? Can you get it up?' We were in the Arctic water, and the waves were splashing against my face. 

"I awakened, still too drowsy to concentrate, with the feel of the waves, and the sound of 'Can you get it up?', which gradually folded into 'Come on! Get up!' and tiny, almost playful slaps against my face. I could only open my eyes halfway, but I knew I wasn't in Kevin's car anymore. I was looking up, way up. Towering over me was Kevin. In his arms, nuzzling his neck, was Kate. My throat was dry, like a sock had been stuffed in it, and I was reclining on a couch in a darkened den. No, reclining isn't the right word. My body was draped across the couch at an angle, my legs off the front, my feet grazing the floor. My butt, the center of gravity, was just off the edge, and in another few moments, I would have tumbled to the floor. The skirt of my sundress had ridden up around my waist. It took all my strength to brush the dress back down over my legs. 

"'Kate?' I said, my voice raspy. 'Why are you in my dream...? I mean, date?' They shared a laugh at my confusion, and their laughs ran together. I had never felt like that. I couldn't concentrate. I could barely lift my head off the couch. I wasn't sick. I just felt...disconnected." 

"You were drugged," I observed, but Lizzie didn't look at me, didn't respond at all. 

"Kate told me that Kevin had decided that she was a more fun date, but she would give me the opportunity to prove that I could be a fun date, too. 'What do you say, Lizzie? Give him a blowjob, and he's all yours.' 

"I managed to shake my head and moan, 'No.' 

"Kevin leaned over me and roughly pulled me to my feet. He grabbed my purse from the coffee table and pushed it in my arms. Then he ushered me to the front door and shoved me through, sneering 'Then go home to mommy, you little cocktease.' He shoved me so violently, I went sprawling on the front porch. I looked back over my shoulder at them, and saw them smiling down at me from the doorstep. 

"I didn't understand, not any of it. Why Kevin had changed, what Kate was doing there, what was happening to me. But then, I was also having trouble recognizing my mom's SUV. I don't remember crying as I unlocked the door and climbed in, but I must have been. I yawned twice as I backed out of the driveway. I was soooo sleepy. I didn't have very good depth perception. I think there was a stop sign that I stopped about twenty feet before I got to it, then barely remembered to stop again, when I reached the sign. It wasn't until then that I realized I had been drugged, and I also realized how fortunate I was. Kevin could have done anything he wanted to me, while I was out. I felt...used, and dirty, and _stupid_, for letting it happen. 

"Kevin's family lived in an area of town where they restore old houses. It's about three blocks from downtown, and I had to drive through downtown to get home. No big deal, I thought. The streets were deserted, the traffic lights just blinking. I checked the clock on the radio. 1:13 a.m. The only thought that occurred to me was that Miranda would be asleep by now, and she'd have to wait until tomorrow to hear about my almost first blowjob. I giggled, and then laughed out loud. And the next thing I knew, the SUV had hit a scarecrow in the middle of the street, sending it flying to the sidewalk. And these little neurons were firing off in my brain, saying, 'That wasn't a scarecrow. That was a little boy.' I tried to use the brake, but I guess I was sitting wrong, because I hit the accelerator and surged ahead for a few moments, before my foot could find the brake, and the car screeched to a halt. 

"I stumbled out of the car and looked back toward the intersection. The only illumination was from the blinking red and amber traffic lights. I didn't see anything. I cried in relief. Whatever was causing my disorientation had also caused me to hallucinate hitting someone. 'Thank you,' I managed to utter a tiny prayer, and sighed. And then I saw it. The Padres baseball cap, in the gutter in front of the sidewalk. And five feet further down, in the street, a sneaker. As I got closer, I could see a crumpled body in front of the sidewalk. I hadn't been able to see it sooner, because of the shadow of the storefront on the corner. I ran to the body...as well as I could. 

"It was a boy, maybe eleven. I knelt in the street and checked his pulse. I could feel it. I checked his heartbeat, and it seemed strong. His arm looked...pretty bad, probably broken in at least one place, and there was blood on his temple. 

"I looked for a phone, and could see a booth about two blocks down to the side. I started to walk toward it, then thought better, that the car was closer. But before I could get to the car, the enormity of what had just happened hit me. I had just hit someone, a child. Why was an eleven-year-old out on the streets at one in the morning, and how did he just appear out of nowhere in front of me? And then I realized through the fog that the answer to the first question didn't matter, and the answer to the second question was that he didn't just appear out of nowhere. He had been there all the time, crossing the street with the blinking red light, just like he was supposed to. And here I came, running red lights, running stop signs, drunk or high on something, and hit him. And here he is now, with a head injury. 'He might die, Lizzie,' I thought, and in these circumstances, I think they call that murder two. 

"I got back in my car, and I drove to that phone booth. And then I drove past it. It was too close, you see? I drove three more blocks, to the next phone booth, and there I got out, called 911, told them that a boy had been injured in a wreck, gave them the location, hung up, got back in the car. And left. 

"One thing this panic had done for me: I was now wide awake. I got home about one-thirty. I checked the front panel of the SUV, and I couldn't find any damage. I knew the police could find stuff, but for the moment, I was only concerned about my parents. I sneaked into the house, and crept up to my room. The door to Matt's room was open when I passed by it, and his voice called to me quietly. 'Where have you been?' he asked from his bed. 

"I stepped just inside his room and whispered, 'On a date. I lost track of time. Please don't tell Mom and Dad, okay?' 

"He shrugged. 'Sure.' Then he peered at me closely. 'Lizzie? Are you okay?' 

"Oh, how I wanted to have someone to confide in. But, he was twelve, perhaps the same age as the boy I had hit. Maybe they were in the same classes together. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and left his room, and made my way to mine. I dropped my sandals to the floor, and fell under the covers, fully clothed. 

"I didn't wake up that day until about three. My parents were at work, of course, and Matt was God knows where. There were three messages on the answering machine from you, Miranda, wanting to know 'all the juicy details' from the night before. I called you, and I think I made up something about how good a time I had, but that I didn't think we'd be seeing each other again." 

"You said he was a little mature," Miranda remembered her portion of the conversation. "Which is usually Lizziespeak for 'he tried to go too far.'" 

"That sounds right. Anyway, my mom got home while we were on the phone, and naturally, she thought we had been talking all day. She made me get off." Lizzie paused for a moment, wrinkled her brow. "Hnnh. What they've done to me.... Now, everything sounds...dirty. 

"I was up in my room, waiting for dinner and reading the paper, looking for anything that might mention an injured boy from the night before. I couldn't find anything, and I took that as a good sign. _Maybe he's okay_, I thought. _Maybe it's not a newsworthy story, because his parents came and got him, and he went home._ Then I realized, it's a morning paper, so of course, there was nothing there. 

"So I called the hospital. I asked them if anyone had been admitted from a car accident downtown, the night before. They asked me who I was, and I realized I was revealing information that only the driver of that car would have known, so I hung up. Just then, my mom called up to me from the bottom of the stairs. 'Lizzie! You have company!' 

"When I went downstairs, I saw Kate and Kevin in the den, waiting for me. Kate was holding a shopping bag. I couldn't help but spit out, 'What are you doing here?' 

"'Lizzie!' my mother cried out. 'These are your guests. Show them some consideration.' 

"Kate was smiling sweetly; Kevin was smiling disarmingly. 'Moooommm,' I begged her plaintively. 

"'Lizzieeeee,' she warned me. 

"I turned to them, sighed, and said, 'Hi,' then pursed my lips, letting them know that was as far as I was willing to go. I still had some of my mettle, back then. 

"'Lizzie,' Kate said. 'I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry if there was some kind of misunderstanding yesterday.' She held up the bag for me to see. 'And I brought you a gift. And...I hope we can be friends again.' 

"My mom gave Kate one of those, 'Awwww, isn't that sweet?' looks, and then left for the kitchen, to finish dinner. I wasn't convinced, of course. That was just a show, for my mother's benefit. 

"'What do you want, Kate?' I asked. 

"'Let's go upstairs and open your gift. It's personalized and everything, just for you!' 

"I figured it was easier to take them upstairs, deal with it, and get rid of them than it would be to confront my mom again, so I led them to my room. When they entered, Kevin closed the door behind him. I crossed my arms over my chest. 'Not supposed to close the door with boys in here,' I told them. 

"'You do it with Gordo, don't you?' she challenged me. 

"'Gordo's different,' I responded." 

_Thanks_, I thought sardonically, when I heard Lizzie say that. _Appreciate the hell outta that._

"'Well, this gift is kinda...private,' Kate said, lowering her voice. 

"I reached my hand out for it. She pulled a small package out of the bag, gift-wrapped in silver paper, and gave it to me. Taped to the top was a small card that said, 'Happy Birthday.' 

"'It's not my birthday,' I informed them. 

"'It is now,' Kate returned, with a gleam in her eye. 'It's the beginning of a new life.' I didn't argue with her. I didn't want to spend the effort or time. I just wanted to get them out. I unwrapped the package, and found an unlabelled video tape." 

A knot formed in my stomach at that point in Lizzie's story. Things were becoming a little clearer now. 

"'Come on!' Kate said. 'Let's watch it!' Looking back on it, I probably sound pretty naive, but I really had no idea what was on the tape, at the time. I popped it into my VCR and it automatically started playing. The picture was grainy, and real green, but you could see everything clearly. Looked like it was taken from about three blocks away, but the camera zoomed in on me, as I stumbled drunkenly across Kevin's yard and climbed into my car. The car knocked over a trash can as it backed out of the driveway, then was weaving back and forth, all over the road, stopping, then starting again. My car went past the camera. It had to be no more than fifteen feet away, and panned to follow me. About two blocks on the other side, you could see me running a red light, and striking a boy in the street. I got out of the car, unsteadily made my way to the boy, knelt over him, returned to the car, drove one more block, and turned, and disappeared from view. 

"I know my face was ashen when I turned to look at Kate's gleeful smile and Kevin's lecherous grin. 'How?' I asked. 'How did you know?' 

"'That's the best part!' she said, clapping her hands. 'I had no idea. How could I? You got doped up on rohypnol, and I just wanted a tape of you driving. Claire's the director. How do you think she did? Don't you think she captured the drama of the moment? Anyway,' she shrugged. 'I only wanted something that would get you grounded for the summer. _This_...well, this just opens up a _whole_ new world of possibilities.' 

"Kevin was opening the drawers in my bureau and going through my stuff. When he found my bras, he pulled out one and fell back on my bed. He held the bra up to his face and breathed deeply. 'What do you want, Kate?' I asked her. 

"She had been waiting for that. She bounced on the toes of her shoes, before saying, 'You. You're going to be my slave.' 

"I turned that over in my mind. I knew how Kate worked. I would have to bring her order to her when we were at the Digital Bean, maybe do her chores, and if she was in a really bitchy mood, I might have to clean her room. And after two or three weeks, she'd get tired of it, and move on to someone else. I sighed. 'Okay.' 

"'Excellent!' she said, clapping again. 'Okay. Now, take off your T-shirt.' 

"My jaw dropped. 'What? No way!' Behind me, on the bed, Kevin laughed. 

"Kate smirked. 'Let's go over your options. Option one is to open the door and invite your mom up to view the tape. Option two is to take your top off, but the door stays closed. So, do you want the door open, or closed?' 

"'Closed,' I answered, and pulled the T-shirt over my head in resignation. I clasped the shirt in front of me, trying to cover the front of my bra. 

"'Good,' Kate cheered. She pointed at me and wiggled the finger. 'Now the bra.' 

"'No, Kate,' I protested. 'Not with him here,' I nodded to Kevin over my shoulder. 'I won't.' 

"Her voice was actually pleasant, as she said, 'Lizzie, you'll do whatever I want, and you'll do it in front of whoever I say.' 

"'No, I won't,' I stood up to her. 'Go ahead, tell my mom. I'll face up to it. It can't be anything worse than this.' 

"She approached me and stood close enough for me to feel the breath of her voice. 'Lizzie, let me explain something to you. This isn't the worst. It's going to get a lot worse than this, and you'll do it. You'll do it all. If I tell you to do a strip tease at the Homecoming pep rally this fall, you'll do it. If I tell you to give blowjobs to the offensive line, you'll do it. If I decide that you need a tattoo on your butt that says Horny Slut, you'll do it. And the reason you'll do all that, and more, is that we've moved way beyond having your telephone privileges taken away. You need to be thinking juvenile detention, if you're lucky. If you're not, you need to be thinking about being tried as an adult. You might not serve time, but you'll have a criminal conviction following you for the rest of your life. No sorority, no scholarship, no college degree. And then there's your family. You know, even if the poor child survives, they'll sue. And they won't sue you. They'll follow the money. They'll sue your parents. Your parents will lose their home. Matt'll probably be placed in foster care, handed off from guardian to guardian, month to month. But, if your pride is that important to you...well, I can understand pride. Or, you could just take your bra off, and show Kevin your tits.'" 

"Lizzie," I cautioned her. "You don't have to talk about this." 

She looked directly at me, for the first time since she began. "No. I do have to. You need to know. I've kept this inside for so long. I committed an...unforgivable sin that night. And this--all of this--is my punishment." 

Miranda reached up to stroke her hair. "It wasn't you, Lizzie. It was the drugs." 

Lizzie pounded her knees with her fists. "No! You don't understand. It wasn't the wreck. I know that was the Rohypnol. I left! I ran! I could have helped! I could have--" 

"No, you couldn't," Miranda assured her. "You did everything you could. You called for help." 

Lizzie snorted. "That doesn't count. What, in the great cosmic karma abacus, I'm supposed to get credit, because I reported it?" Her tears had returned. "I should have stayed! He could have died that night, and the last thing he would have seen would've been the gutter. I could have helped. I could've comforted him. And because he survived, that makes me okay? No, Miranda, I fucked up. I had the chance to do the right thing, and I ran away. And that wasn't the drug, Miranda. That was _me_." 

"No," I countered. "That was the drug." 

She looked at me as if she had only now realized I was in the room. "What?" 

"Rohypnol. It impairs judgement." 

For the first time that day, it looked like some sunshine was peeking through the clouds in her eyes. "Really?" 

"From the moment you woke up the next day, free from the drug, you never doubted that the right thing was to stay, not because you'd get in trouble for leaving, but because that boy needed you, because it was the right thing to do. The drug played more tricks on you than depth perception. It clouded your judgement. It wasn't 'you' that ran away, Lizzie. It was the drug." 

Lizzie looked to Miranda for confirmation, and when Miranda nodded, she broke down in fresh tears. "Thank you!" she cried, but she was smiling through the tears. "It's been killing me...." 

She kept clearing her throat, and I asked her if she wanted more juice, but she shook her head, then continued. 

"So, I, uh, *ahem*, unclasped the back of my bra and sort of peeled the straps over my shoulders, but still holding it up to me. She told me to give the bra and T-shirt to Kevin, and keep my hands at my side. I kind of tossed them to him, because I didn't want to risk touching him, but it took me several moments to lower my arms. My hair was a little longer then, so that helped cover me some, but not enough. I was kind of in profile, so Kevin could see me from the side. 

"'There, see?' Kate said. 'That was easy.' _Easy for her, maybe_, I thought. _She got to keep her clothes on._ She took the shirt and bra and stuffed them in the shopping bag she had brought with her. 'Lizzie, your life is going to change. Things are going to be...difficult for you, but they'll be fun for me, so it all works out. Right now, there are four people in the world who know about this tape--me, you, Kevin, and Claire--and that's the way I want to keep it. So while we might bring...other people into our...game, the tape will stay a secret, as long as you want.' She looked to Kevin. 'Come on, Tarzan. We're through here.' 

"'How long?' I asked. 

"'How long, what?' she returned. 

"'How long does this go on?' 

"'This is not a negotiation, dull-witted one,' she thumped me on the forehead. 'It goes on...as long as the statute of limitations, I guess.' She gave me a threatening look. 'I'm going to have a lot of fun with you.' 

"She turned towards the door, but I called her back. 'Kate. Take the tape, please.' 

"'Nah,' she shrugged. 'It's yours; you keep it. In fact, keep it on the stand at the head of your bed. I want to see it up there, whenever I'm here.' 

"She opened the door, and I barely had time to snatch a blanket off the foot of my bed to cover myself. It amazed me that she could have been so careless. I mean, Matt, or my mom, could have been in the hall. 'Come over to my house, after lunch tomorrow, Lizzie,' she called from the hall, loud enough for my mom to hear from downstairs. 'We'll take a dip in the pool!' 

"I didn't get much sleep that night, just thinking about what I had gotten myself into now, and what I could do to fix it, and I couldn't come up with anything. It was just...darkness. The next morning, I quit my part-time morning job at the day-care center and was accepted as a volunteer worker at St. Matthew's, where eleven-year-old Cody Danvers had been admitted early Tuesday morning, after a hit-and-run auto accident. The NA thought I was a little old to be a candy striper, but they never turned down volunteer help. I just wanted to be there, to know if he was okay. He was...um, he was in a coma." 

"I remember reading about that," Miranda gasped. "He...recovered, didn't he?" 

"Yeah," Lizzie confirmed. "He came out of it after...eight days, I think. Yeah, cause I had been there a week. So, anyway, that first day, I went home for lunch, then to Kate's. I had to take the bus. The public transport doesn't go through Kate's neighborhood, so I had to walk about five blocks to her house. I had brought my own swimsuit, but she insisted I wear one of her old ones. It showed a little more skin that I would have wanted, but we were alone, so it was no big deal. She wasn't friendly to me, that day, but she wasn't really mean, either. It was weird. She had me stay in the pool the whole time, while she lounged at poolside. 

"The next day, it was the same, except she made me go topless. On Friday, Claire was there, too. I could see what she was doing. She was...gradually moving me into my...new life. 

"For the next couple of weeks, my life consisted of hospital duty in the mornings, where I got to know Cody's family, Kate's swimming pool in the afternoons, where the circle of Kate's friends grew each day, and talking and hanging out with Miranda in the evenings. I'm sorry, Miranda. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't let you suspect that anything was wrong." 

"You did an awful job," Miranda chided her gently. 

Lizzie favored us with a sad smile, then actually giggled a little. "I've always been a terrible liar. My skin didn't blotch, did it?" 

"No, your skin was perfect." 

Lizzie took and released a deep breath, then continued. "Meanwhile, Cody had wakened from his coma. I guess it happened during the night, because when I walked into his room one morning, he was sitting up, eating vanilla pudding, with his mom and dad hovering on either side of the bed. 'Is vanilla your favorite?' I asked him, masking my ecstatic joy and relief to see him there, like any other eleven-year-old. 

"He looked right at me, and said, 'I know you,' and for a moment, I thought my life was over. Then I replayed it in my mind, and realized that he had actually said, 'No. You?' 

"I wrinkled my nose at him and said, 'I like chocolate,' in a stage whisper. He gave me a winning grin and nodded. And from that moment on, Cody and I were inseparable, at least in the mornings. He had a broken ankle, compound fractures in one arm, and bruised ribs, and he would be in physical therapy for several months, but the head injuries had proven negative, and that was the most important thing. 

"Every day, Cody's room was my first stop, and it was my last stop before leaving at noon. We read Harry Potter, watched The Price Is Right, and played Battleship endlessly. 

"And meanwhile, things...progressed, with Kate. I never saw Kevin again. I suspect she held something over him, too, and I don't think she wanted him around anymore, since he knew the basis of her hold over me. Kate was perfectly happy with people knowing that I was her slave, but she didn't want anyone to know why, or how. Because then, I would belong to everyone. So, you see, in one way, Kate was happy, even eager, to share me with her friends, but in another, darker way, she wanted me all to herself. By now, she was inviting some of the frat rats from SDSU to join us, and I had to...show off for them. They would bring beer, and sometimes I worried that Kate wouldn't be able to control them. I begged Kate to keep them away from me, and when I told Kate that I had never been with a boy, she came to my defense. She said she thought it was a little old-fashioned, but still sweet, and she would respect it. She said that I should save myself until my wedding night." 

Lizzie told us more, most of which I'm not willing to share here. You'll just have to accept that Lizzie's torment at the hands of Kate continued to grow during June. I will tell you about one thing, though, because you need to understand the blackness in Kate's soul. 

"It was the weekend after the Fourth of July. Kate's parents had gone to Cancun for the holiday, but she had convinced her parents to let her stay behind. I guess I was more fun than a beach resort. Kate had 'invited' me to spend Friday and Saturday night with her. You have to understand that, with Kate, an 'invitation' is an order. 

"When I got there, eight or nine girls were already mingling around: Claire, Brooke, Melanie, Sonja. You know the rest. The first thing I noticed was that they were all wearing light blue. Some in halter and shorts, some in T-shirt and jeans. Becki was actually in a dress, which was unusual for these gatherings, but.... 

"Anyway, Kate and Brooke took me upstairs to Kate's bedroom, and told me to change clothes, into the outfit on the bed. They were always into outfits. One day, it was the Catholic schoolgirl, the next day a cheerleader, next week it would be black leather. Today it was white lace. A dress with a very short skirt. The hem barely covered my butt. The top of it was sheer, almost but not quite see-through. They gave me white lace panties, white stockings, no bra. And gloves, long white gloves that almost reached my elbows. The final touch was red heels. I thought the shoes clashed with everything else, but I had long since given up caring. Just wear what they tell you. That's how you survive. 

"They led me back downstairs, to the ooh's and aah's of all the other girls. 'Lizzie, you look positively radiant,' Claire told me, and everyone laughed at some private joke. Kate and Brooke continued to lead me through the throng, each of them holding one of my elbows, and took me down the foyer, through the kitchen, then the dining room, across a hall, and opened the door to the parlor. There were about a dozen more people seated in chairs there, most, but not all, guys. The chairs had been arranged in rows, like a classroom. At the front of the chairs, at what amounted to a small platform, or stage, stood two guys, one of them with his back to me. The one facing me was wearing a robe, and holding a Bible. Suddenly, it occurred to me. This was a wedding. And I was a bride." 

Miranda tried to stop her here, and I got up from the kitchen table where I'd been sitting and paced back and forth. "I don't want to hear this," I said. 

"You have to, Gordo," Lizzie told me. "You see, you think you know. You and I, we grew up with Kate. You think, she's gone too far this time. You don't know. You have no idea how far she can go, how evil she can be. You need to know. You need to hear." 

Instead of returning to the chair, I lay down on my back, on the kitchen floor. "Go on," I said. 

"I turned to Kate, and I pleaded with her. 'Please don't make me do this! I'll do anything you want, but I can't do this!' 

"'You'll do anything I want, anyway,' she smirked. 'You should just be happy we found such a dreamboat for you. They won't all be this romantic. Next week, I'm thinking...Tudgeman! Now come on!' she pushed me toward the aisle between the rows of chairs. 'We don't have all weekend. Oh. Wait a minute! I guess we do.' 

"As I walked down that aisle, The Wedding March was piped from hidden speakers in the walls. I didn't recognize any of the people in the chairs. They all looked older, college age. When I got to the platform, my 'groom' turned to face me, and I _did_ recognize him." Lizzie looked at me. "It was you." 

"What?" Miranda and I both said. 

Lizzie shook her head, her eyes never leaving mine. "No, that's what they wanted me to think, wanted me to see. They had taken a photograph of you from my bedroom, cut out your face, and fashioned a mask, which my mystery groom wore over his face. You see what she wanted. She wanted you to be my first, and she wanted you to rape me. 

"As part of my vows, they made me promise to...screw, and suck, and spread my legs. And you promised to show me new ways to--" 

"Stop it," I interrupted her. "Stop doing that. You keep saying it was me. I never did those things." 

She rested her head back against the wall and swallowed. "You're right. So, after the vows, he put a choker around my neck, and the 'preacher' said we were man and wife. And...he picked me up and carried me to the back of the parlor, where they had placed a mattress on the floor. He dropped me--literally dropped me--onto the mattress, fell on top of me, ripped off my panties, and he...took me. In front of everybody." 

"Then he carried me up to the guest bedroom, and we.... He never took the mask off, so I never knew who he really was." 

I thought of three things, after Lizzie told us that. The first was how deep Kate's hatred of Lizzie really ran, that she would go to such lengths to abuse the...friendship...that Lizzie and I had for each other, and how dark was the perverted mind that created this nightmare. The second was the strength of Lizzie's spirit, that she could be put through everything she was explaining to us, and more, and still even try to be happy when she was around her friends and family. Lizzie was my hero. The third was that Miranda's father always hung his key ring on a peg in the kitchen, when he came home for lunch. I was still lying on my back, crying now, a trail of tears running down the sides of my face. "I'm sorry," I said out loud. 

Again, I'm not going to go into detail about some of the ways they tormented Lizzie. I'm just not. All you need to understand is that there were constant parties, usually at Kate's, but occasionally at the Lambda Chi Alpha house at SDSU. Lizzie was expected to provide the entertainment at most of these parties. She was also expected to sleep with at least one guy. 

"Then there were the girls-only nights," Lizzie almost mumbled. "Those were the worst, because they're the most creative. Most of the guys just wanted to screw, or they wanted a bj, which I eventually learned to accept, but the girls.... They know how to hurt me, and they like to take pictures. That was the 'scrapbooks,' that day at lunch. I couldn't believe they would bring pictures to school. Anyone walking by our table could have seen me...." 

"Lizzie," I cautioned her. "It's just going to escalate. It's just going to get worse." 

"I know that!" she shouted at me. "God, don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid! I know you think I am, but I'm not." 

And _that_ hurt me, that she would think that I thought that about her. "Lizzie," I protested, sitting up. "I've _never_ thought you were stupid. Sometimes, I thought you see good in people when there's nothing there, but I admire that." 

"I know," she said in a tired voice. "I just.... You're telling me stuff that doesn't do any good. This is my life now. I have to just...accept it." 

"Bullshit," Miranda spoke up huskily, her voice deepened by all the crying she'd done, listening to Lizzie's story. "We don't have to accept anything. We just have to fight." 

"With what?" Lizzie shrugged. "They're holding all the cards." I lay back down in meditation. 

"Maybe..." Miranda speculated. "Maybe we can tape them, prove that they're doing all this stuff to you, against your will. Maybe you could wear a wire, and that way--" 

"I can't wear a wire, Miranda," Lizzie reminded her. What she meant was, she'd be spending most of her time sans clothes. "Besides, that would only lead to the video of my driving under the influence, and my family losing everything. I have no proof that I was drugged." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish my life was like it used to be, back in junior high. Simple, carefree." 

"Our lives were never simple," I observed, and she gave me one of those sad smiles. 

"Why couldn't I be Matt?" she asked wistfully. "He has the advantage of an older sister who's been there before. I can guide him around the pitfalls. I'm alone. No one to help me. I don't mean anything about you guys. You guys are great. You love me, and support me, no matter what. And that gives me some strength. But in the end, we're all alone." 

I sat up slowly, and turned my head toward her. "What did you say?" I asked her. 

"I said, we're all alone." 

"No," I shook my head. "Before that." She furrowed her brow in confusion, but I was no longer watching her, nor paying attention. My thoughts had turned inward. "I think I have an idea," I said. 

It took me about an hour to explain what was bubbling over in my mind. Miranda grew more excited as the day wore on, but Lizzie seemed much more doubtful. I'm sure she had spent countless hours alone in bed, trying to find a way out, and had eventually convinced herself that there was no escape. 

After ironing out some of the details (almost all of the talking done by Miranda and me), Lizzie quieted our enthusiasm with the observation, "You should probably leave now. The girls will start showing up, soon.... That's the worst." The three of us were standing face-to-face now, in an intimate circle. 

"Lizzie," I encouraged her. "I think this can work. I think we can do it." I didn't know if my appeals were having any effect on her. "I think we need to try." 

"I agree," Miranda nodded sharply. "I vote for helping Lizzie." She held out her hand in the middle of the circle and said, "Avengers Assemble." 

"Avengers Assemble," I replied, and placed my hand on top of hers. 

We both looked to Lizzie, waiting for her to join us. She had this tired look on her face, like these were only children's games, and her childhood was over. 

"Lizzie," Miranda appealed to her. "We're your friends. We'd do _anything_ for you. We're willing to follow you to the Gates of Hell, but, Lizzie, you have to be willing to lead us there." 

And it wasn't so much the words, as the emotion in Miranda's voice, that seemed to light a spark behind Lizzie's eyes. Almost imperceptibly, she squared her shoulders, pursed her lips, and with a little bit of defiance returning to her stance, she reached out, placed her hand on top of ours, and said, "Avengers Assemble." 

To be concluded.... 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Notes: 

I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission. 

Previous chapters edited to add disclaimer. No other changes. 

Chapter rated R for language, violence, nudity, and sexual situations 

**Knight in Shining Armor  
Chapter 9**

They say that life isn't fair. And Kate and her minions were about to learn some very important lessons about life. 

Things didn't get any easier for Lizzie for the next few weeks. It took time, you see. 

* * 

It's amazing, the things that the human mind can overlook. You know when you're walking on downtown sidewalks, and you have to walk around all the homeless people, but they don't even register as people in your mind, just objects in an obstacle course? That's what Kate was like. Leaving her house to drive to school in the morning, and she doesn't notice the Comcast van parked on the curb in front of her next door neighbor's house. Arriving at school, and hitting the button on her keychain that makes the horn beep to alert her that the doors are locked, and she doesn't notice the Comcast van in the self-serve lane at the Exxon station, across the street. Entering the tanning boutique in the fashionable East Side of town, and she doesn't notice the Comcast van huddled near an open manhole. 

It was near the end of September, late on a Monday afternoon, when I met with Miranda and Lizzie at the Sanchez house. Miranda and I were in the dining room, waiting on Lizzie to get out of the shower upstairs. "It's her second shower since she got here," Miranda confided. "She was talking about finger paint." Lizzie descended the stairs, her hair still wet, and joined us at the table. 

"It worked like a charm," she said. "She sent me into the kitchen to make her lunch, and I plugged it in, behind the refrigerator. Green light came on." 

"I guess this means that Friday is LL Day," I told them. Friday was Homecoming, and school would be out all day. I reported on what I knew to Lizzie. "Kate and the girls are planning to spend the day producing a movie, starring you. A movie which they will be putting up on a porn server out of Bulgaria. Your co-stars will be the brothers of Lambda Chi Alpha. Of course, the guys' faces will be digitized. They haven't decided whether to protect you or not." 

"There's no server, right?" Miranda asked, concerned. 

"Of course not," I assured her. "It's handled." 

At that moment, all three of the cell phones that we had just purchased went off, alerting us to text messages. My screen read [72%]. 

* * 

Lizzie had invited me over for dinner with her family that night. 

It was almost like old times. In fact, if you didn't know better, you'd swear it _was_ old times. Lizzie's mom chopping vegetables, Matt practicing magic tricks, Lizzie's dad trying to light the pilot light on the grill and looking clueless, Lizzie complaining that Matt left chewing gum on her toothbrush. Was she just hiding it well, or was Lizzie coming back to us? 

After dinner, I offered to help wash the dishes, but Lizzie took my hand and dragged me up to her room before her parents could accept the offer. She closed the door behind us, then sat on the edge of her bed. My eyes drifted to the wall behind her TV, which, until recently, had showcased photos of Miranda, and I, and all three of us together. She patted a spot on the bed beside her. "Here." I sat next to her. "Tell me again, it's going to work," she asked me breathlessly. 

I smiled. "It's going to work, Lizzie. I'm sure of it." 

"You won't leave me? You'll be with me, right?" 

I couldn't believe I was doing it, but I lightly placed my hand over the center of her chest. She didn't pull away. "I'll be right in here," I promised her, then removed my hand. 

"You're my hero," she confided in me. "You've always been my hero. You know that, right?" 

I chuckled softly. "Don't feel like a hero." 

She smiled warmly at me. "Heroes rarely do." She looked down at her hands, and seemed eternally captivated by her watchband. Behind her, on the headboard of her bed, sat a lone videotape. "Gordo?" she asked tentatively. 

"Yeah?" 

"Tell me something. Do you think, if we hadn't always known each other since, like, forever, and we only met in high school, and had some classes together, do you think we could have been...." She looked up at me from her watch only briefly, then returned to it. "...I dunno...something else? Maybe?" 

"We'll never know, I guess," I told her, unsure of where she was going with this. 

"Yeah," she laughed self-consciously. "I guess you're right." 

Our phones chirped simultaneously. My screen read [78%]. 

* * 

Later that night, I was on the cell phone with Miranda, and I told her of the odd conversation that Lizzie and I had had earlier. Miranda gave me one of those long, ironic sighs. "What!?" I said, juggling a couple of tennis balls in one hand, a nervous habit I thought I had abandoned in junior high. "What now?" 

"Forget it, Daredevil." 

"Why do you keep calling me that?" 

"Did you get another update tonight?" she asked, ignoring my question. 

"Yeah, we're getting them at the same time." 

"Are we gonna make it?" 

"They'll get faster," I assured her. 

When I woke up Tuesday morning, I noticed I had received a text message during the night, at 4:03 a.m. [81%]. 

* * 

I had been wrong. They were getting slower. My phone alerted me with a message of [83%] at six thirty-eight Tuesday evening. Lizzie was on a "date" with Ted that night. She knocked on my door at nine thirty. When I opened the door, she only said, "I can't do this any more," and led the way to the rec room. I followed her, and she began pacing. "I want to end it tomorrow." 

"We're not ready, Lizzie," I tried reasoning with her. "I think everything will be in place by Friday." 

"You _think_?" she stopped pacing to look at me. "Gordo, I'm going to be starring in my own porno movie Friday. Please tell me you more than _think_." 

"It's...taking more time than I thought," I admitted. 

"Well, speed it up!" she ordered. 

"I can't. It has to be done right, or it won't work at all." I tried changing the subject. "We got into Lambda Chi tonight." 

"Really?" 

I nodded. She ran her fingers through her hair, then massaged the back of her neck. "Oh, God," she moaned. "I need a shower. Can I--" she pointed to the stairs. 

I shrugged. "Sure. But...you didn't bring anything else." 

"I'll think of something," she assured me, and quietly moved upstairs. While she was in the shower, my phone displayed a new text message: [86%]. We were back on schedule. She came back downstairs, wearing one of my mother's robes, and trying to press her hair dry with a towel. She sat down next to me on the couch, and took my hands in hers. "Gordo," she said. "I need to ask you a favor." 

"You got it," I promised. 

"I...haven't been able to get much sleep since Saturday." 

"Nightmares?" 

She looked at me in confusion, then laughed sadly. "God, no. I've had nightmares for three months, but you eventually learn to sleep through those, anyway. It's amazing, the things you learn to just accept. No, I mean I've been so keyed up, thinking this may finally be over, that I can't...unwind, I can't get to sleep. I don't want to go home. Can you help me sleep?" 

"You want to call your parents?" 

She shook her head. "They think I'm at Miranda's. I don't think they'd understand." 

I shrugged. "Neither will mine." I stood up. "Come on, let's go," I told her, and led her to my room. I helped her climb under the covers of my bed. She still wore the robe, but had draped the towel over the back of the rocking chair in the corner. I turned on a bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light, then sat in the rocking chair. 

She lay on her side and faced me. "Talk to me," she whispered. 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"Tell me everything will be okay." 

"Everything will be okay," I assured her, quietly and slowly. "Come Friday, we'll spring our trap at Kate's house. Their overconfidence will be their downfall. Miranda and I will be right beside you, and by the time we've played our hand, the roles will be reversed, and Kate will be doing anything you say." 

"The only thing I want her to do," Lizzie mumbled, "is to get completely out of my life." 

"Then she'll be completely out of your life. And the sun will come up on Saturday, and you'll be free. There'll be no more guilt, no more shame, no more fear. You'll be our sweet Lizzie again, my Princess, and I'll be your knight." 

"I wish.... I wish I could feel like this, every night." 

"You will," I promised. 

"I love you, Gordo," she told me. 

"I love you," I returned, and it was the first time I had said anything like that, with no disclaimers, and moments later, she was asleep. 

I pulled the cell phone from my pocket. [89%]. 

* * 

Lizzie ate lunch with us at school Wednesday, for the first time in weeks. Kate stopped by. "Lizzie? Won't you be sitting with us, today?" 

Lizzie held up one hand with the palm facing toward Kate, in the international "stop" position, not bothering to look directly at her. "Buzz off, Kate," she said. "I'm with friends." 

Kate's eyebrows shot up, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What?" 

Lizzie gave Kate a tired glance. "Are you deaf, or stupid?" she asked. "I said, I'm not eating with you; I'm eating with friends." 

Kate glared at Lizzie. "Fine. We'll discuss it when you come over Friday." Then she amended it. "No, call me this afternoon." 

"If I get the time," Lizzie sighed dramatically. 

"You. Call. Me." That spoken through gritted teeth, and Kate turned away, toward her own table. 

"Aaaaaa," she squealed at us, leaning forward, with her tongue excitedly peeking between her teeth. And I thought, _That's it. She's definitely coming back to us._ "I can't believe I did that." 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Miranda prodded her happily. 

"It feels...liberating," she agreed. 

* * 

That afternoon, we listened on extensions in Lizzie's house while she talked to Kate. "What the _fuck_ was that all about?" Kate spat venomously. 

"What I do on my time is _my_ business," Lizzie shot back. "You back off." 

"On _your_ time?" Kate repeated. "I _own_ your time, bitch, just like I own your body, and your soul, and everything else. You don't have _anything_, unless I give it to you. Come Friday, you're gonna pay for that little show of backbone today. I bet you'll look pretty good, on your hands and knees, turning tricks for Lambda Chi." 

"I'll be there," Lizzie promised. "But I'm through being your little fucktoy." 

"We'll see," Kate said threateningly. "Better bring plenty of condoms." Then she hung up. 

Lizzie was sitting on her bed, breathing deeply when I got to her bedroom from the phone in the kitchen. Miranda gave me a high five. Lizzie pointed at me. "You had better be there to back me up, Mr. Gordon." 

* * 

Lizzie stayed with Miranda Thursday, neither of them going to school. They would probably face detention the next week, but.... 

At lunch, Kate studied me as I ate alone. She kept chewing on one fingernail. As I left the lunchroom for Chemistry, I checked my phone. [96%]. 

* * 

We both spent Thursday night at Miranda's. I looked at my phone compulsively throughout the evening, but it seemed stuck on ninety-eight percent. I even replaced the battery, but got no better results. 

We watched Twilight Zone, and Simpsons, and Sabrina the Teenage Bitch, and none of us said anything through them all. It seemed as if we'd only been treading water for the last week, not drawing any closer to the shore, only trying not to drown. I discretely hit the night light button on the phone. [98%]. 

* * 

I had slept in the basement, while Lizzie and Miranda had spent the night in Miranda's room. It was nine o'clock when I climbed the stairs to the ground floor. The girls were at the kitchen table, eating Captain Crunch straight from the box. "You know," I warned them, "that's been proven to cause cancer, unless you share." Miranda shook the box and passed it to me. Lizzie looked glum. 

"Phones say ninety-nine percent," Miranda said. 

"We still have time," I assured them. 

"No," Lizzie told us. "I have to go. I'm supposed to be there before ten. Just, um, come when you can." 

"Lizzie," Miranda said, placing a hand on Lizzie's forearm. "After your confrontation with Kate, she'll be vicious." 

Lizzie slipped her arm out from under Miranda's hand, and picked up her purse. "Come when you can." And with that, she left us. 

At 10:07 a.m., my and Miranda's phones beeped. [100%]. Miranda and I raced to her bedroom and burned a new dvd on a very special recorder. By the time we were finished and jumping in my car for the ride to Kate's, my phone went off again. [411? no princess?] 

I read the message aloud as I backed out of Miranda's driveway. "Does that mean anything to you?" 

"I think they're asking, where's Lizzie?" Miranda suggested. 

"That's crazy. They _know_ where she is. She's at Kate's." We were halfway there, when my phone beeped yet again. This time it read, [911! where r u] 

I punched the star on the cell phone, and received an answer before it ever rang. "They've flown the coop, partner. No one's at the house." 

"Where are they?" I asked in a panic. _Now which of us had been overconfident?_

"Hold on," I was told. "GPS indicates...Cox Arena?" 

SDSU. "They're going to the Lambda Chi Alpha house." Fuck! That was another forty-five minutes away. 

"Stand by.... Yep. Looks like a change of plans. They're at the house." 

"Try to monitor it," I instructed them. 

"You're the boss." My phone went dead. 

We were flying down I-15 thirty minutes later, approaching I-8, when my phone rang. I didn't get a chance to say anything when I pressed the talk button. "Listen, partner, you better light a fire under your ass. Things are getting way too intense down there, and we didn't sign on to hear her going through this. We're about ready to call in the Marines from Camp Pendleton." 

"No!" I shouted. "We're five minutes away. Cut the power!" 

"You got it," came the instant reply, as if he'd had his finger on the switch all along. 

"And kill the phones." 

The barest pause, then, "Done. They are dead in the water. I can activate the sprinklers, too. That oughtta cool 'em down." 

"No," I cautioned them. "They might be tied into the fire department." 

Another pause, followed by, "Partner, they're not tied into _anything_ right now." 

"Oh, yeah. Right. Is Miranda's wire working? Will you hear me?" 

"We can hear the girl's heartbeat. We should be able to hear you talk, big mouth." 

"We're coming up on SDSU now," I informed them as I took the exit, then pressed the off button on the phone, and tossed it on the seat between Miranda and me. 

I drove down fraternity row, and Miranda spotted the house first, the Greek letters hanging below a second floor balcony. It was smaller than the surrounding fraternity houses, but well maintained, quiet. There was a small parking lot behind the building, and I pulled into an empty spot. I reached into the back seat, grasped the DVD case and we both exited the car and almost ran to the front door. 

Miranda and I pounded on the huge, oak double doors. After a moment, a fullback-sized, barrel-chested guy opened the door. "Yeah?" It sounded like "Bear", from Kate's house. Behind him, the house was lit only by sunshine piercing the windows. We could hear muted conversation from some other room nearby. 

"We're here to see Ted," I told the guard dog. 

"Fuck off," he responded casually and started to close the door. 

"We're here to show a movie," Miranda piped up, and at the mention of a movie, the door stopped, then opened again. From behind Bear, I could see Ted approaching from a back room, joined by Kate. 

"Gordo, right?" Ted asked. 

"Ted!" I said excitedly, hands out to my side. "I'm here for my tour. Remember?" 

Kate, her hand locked around Ted's arm, glared at us. 

"Not a good time, my man," he said humorlessly. "Turn around and go home." 

"No," Kate interceded. "Let them in. This'll be fun. It's just what she deserves." 

"Bad idea, Kate," Ted warned her. 

"Bite me," Kate returned, letting go of Ted. "I'll take her, and we'll leave." 

Ted shook his head in frustration, but let Kate have her way. We entered the house, and Miranda said, "Gee, Kate. It's really good to see you. What are you doing here?" 

"Well, see, Miranda," Kate responded, warming to the part. "My best friend, Lizzie, has a teensy little crush on, oh, four or five of the guys here, and she asked me if I could give her a ride, so she could express just how appreciative she is of all the attention they give her. Would you like me to show her to you?" 

"As a matter of fact, we would," I agreed, then turned to Ted. "Then Ted, we'll have something to show you." I waved the DVD case in my hand. 

"Well, you've got a problem," Ted replied smugly. "No power." 

I nodded, looking around, and said, "I need power." Almost instantly, the lights came on, the air conditioner hummed, and the stereo cranked slowly up. Gradually, we were joined by others. The girls I recognized. Claire, and Brooke, and Joanna. Not all of the cheerleaders, but enough. There were about half a dozen fraternity guys in the room now, including Ted and Bear. Ted and Kate both lost just a little of their smarmy self-confidence, but Kate recovered quickly. 

"All right," Ted said. "Nice trick. What do you want?" 

"Lizzie first," Miranda answered for me. 

"Are you sure?" Kate asked, smiling wickedly. 

"Actually, I wasn't talking to you," Miranda retorted. 

"Lizzie was putting on a little show for everyone," Kate said, ignoring Miranda. "But when the power went out, we had to leave her alone in the basement. Now that the lights are back up, let me introduce you to the new Lizzie McGuire." 

Kate opened the door to the basement, and flicked on the light switch. They had been thoughtful enough to turn the lights off, even after the power went out. She led the way down the steps, followed by me, then Miranda. Ted was behind Miranda. 

"Lizzie!" Kate called out as we neared the landing. "Guess what? You have company!" When we reached the landing, I briefly took in the scene before me. 

I had silently prayed on the race here that I could still keep my promise to protect her from any more abuse and humiliation, but we had...I had failed her. Along one wall of the basement was a fully stocked bar. At one end of the bar was stationed a sink in the cabinet. The door in the cabinet under the sink was open, and attached to the drain pipe in that cabinet was one end of a dog leash, and the other end of the leash was attached to a collar around Lizzie's neck. She was kneeling on the floor, because the leash wouldn't allow her to stand. They had dressed her in a harem girl costume, like the one worn by the genie in the old "I Dream of Jeannie" shows. Except they had neglected to provide her with a top. She tried to turn to face away from us, and I could see her hands were tied behind her. It only took me a moment to take it all in, and when I realized what I was seeing, I turned away. Miranda rushed to Lizzie's side and hugged her. 

Kate came up to me and whispered, "If the power had gone out ten minutes later, you'd get to see what she looks like with cum in her hair." 

I reacted without thinking, reaching out and violently shoving her back. She tumbled off the landing and fell the extra two steps to the basement floor, landing on her ass. She could have broken her neck, but I was lucky. 

"You bastard!" she cried in shock, then looked to Ted. "I want him dead!" 

"Shut up, Kate," Ted responded. I think he was beginning to realize how much trouble he might be in. 

Kate was actually growling as she struggled to her feet. At the same time, Miranda looked to me and said, "Gordo?" She had unclipped the leash and freed Lizzie's hands, but she still had no way to hide Lizzie's nudity. I peeled off my shirt and tossed it to her, and she draped it around Lizzie and began to help feed her arms through the sleeves. 

Kate pointed at Lizzie, and said, "Don't you dare, slut!" She took two steps toward Lizzie and Miranda, then stopped. "Tell them," she ordered. "Tell them you're a whore, and you want to stay." 

Lizzie looked up at Kate from the floor, then, with Miranda's help, rose to her feet. "Kate, get fucked," she said. 

"You don't get it, do you, Kate?" I asked. "I think Ted gets it, but you don't. It's over." 

Kate glanced at me, then returned her glare to Lizzie. "It isn't over. In fact, it's just starting for sweet little Lizzie." 

"Let's watch the DVD first," I reminded her. "Upstairs." 

"Fuck you!" Kate spat. "I don't follow your orders, you little toad." 

"Kate," Ted said through gritted teeth. "Stick a dick in your mouth, and get upstairs." 

Kate's eyes grew big, then narrowed and shot lasers at me, but she started pounding up the steps, still thinking she held all the cards. The only problem was, she thought the game was poker, and we were about to deal a hand of crazy eights. 

I turned to Ted. "Her clothes." 

He pointed to a shelf at the other end of the bar. "Behind there," he instructed, and Miranda reached for Lizzie's clothes, and gathered them in her arms. Ted and I climbed the stairs back to the main floor, and I approached the giant screen TV lining one wall of the rec room. By the time I had placed the disk in the DVD player, Miranda and Lizzie had joined the dozen or so people already there, most of them Lizzie's tormenters for the previous four months. Lizzie was back in her street clothes, and Miranda returned my shirt to me. 

There was no introduction to the video that played on the monitor, a shot of Kate, taken in her bedroom. 

"Is this running?" she asked the camera. 

"Yes, we're recording," came a male voice from offscreen. It _might_ have been my voice. Then again, maybe not. 

"What the hell is this?" the live Kate asked me, but before I could respond, Ted warned her to shut up. 

"Okay," the video Kate said, sitting on her bed and lighting a cigarette. "I'm doing this to protect me. This was all Ted's idea." 

"What?" Ted asked the monitor, then turned to Kate. "_What_ was my idea?" 

Kate shook her head in confusion. "That's.... I'm not--" 

The DVD played on, interrupting them. "Ted and all of his friends are sick psychos. Last year, Ted got me pregnant, and I had to have an abortion. Then he threatened to tell not only my parents, but everyone at school." 

"What the f--?" Ted was stuttering, and Kate was just shaking her head, not saying anything. 

"It would have ruined me, destroyed my life. But he said he'd keep my secret, if I could find someone else for him. He was looking for what he called a mascot for the fraternity, someone he and his buddies could fuck anytime they wanted. When he saw a picture of Lizzie in my yearbook, he pointed her out, and told me that if I could find some way to blackmail Lizzie into being his slave, then he would protect me." The video Kate took a long drag on the cigarette and then smashed it into an ashtray on the nightstand. "I don't give a fuck about Lizzie. In fact, if he hadn't named her, I probably would have suggested her. But I only did it cause he made me. So I got something on her. What it is doesn't matter. But what does matter is that the guys are starting to get bored with Lizzie, and now they want me to trap Claire." 

Now it was Claire's turn to drop her jaw. "What is this?" she kept turning between Kate and Ted. 

"You fucking...bitch!" Ted shouted at Kate, livid. 

Kate couldn't take her eyes off the screen. "This isn't right!" was all she could say. 

The video continued unabated. "I've tried to convince them that Claire isn't sexy enough for them, and they'd have more fun with Brooke, but I've come to realize that Ted isn't being rational." By now, Brooke had entered the shouting contest. "I don't think any of the other cheerleaders would mind. I think they got off on watching Lizzie being abused. Most of them are closet lesbians, anyway. Yesterday was the final straw. Ted says that it's gone too far with Lizzie for anyone to back out, that they'll probably have to kill her. He says he can probably trick Bear into it, since the big ox isn't too bright." 

Bear slowly turned to face Ted, who held his hands up in defense. "Bear, I swear, man, this bitch is lying through her teeth!" 

"Now the McGuire slut can live or die, for all I care," video Kate continued. "And Ted and his little fag suck-buddies can wear out all the other cheerleaders, for all I care, but this video is designed to shine the light of day on their little roach motel, just in case anything ever happens to me." 

At this point, everyone in the room was shouting at each other, threatening one another. There was more on the video, but I couldn't hear it. 

"I ought to kill you!" Ted yelled at Kate. "And if you ever show your fucking face around here again, I _will_ kill you!" 

"I never said those things!" Kate protested in vain. "That's not me, you fucking pig!" 

"Don't tell me that's not you!" he shouted back, pointing at the screen, the veins on the side of his neck popping out. "I'm _looking_ at you!" 

And he was right. That was no actress. That was Kate. In Kate's bedroom. Smoking Kate's cigarettes, the cigarettes that previously, only Claire was aware Kate used. 

I moved to stand next to Lizzie and Miranda. "Hold on," I warned them. "This might hurt a little." Then I said, "Give me an arc," and a low thrum pounded dully through the room, shaking my fillings and making my head hurt, and the DVD/monitor instantly shut down. The ring on my finger grew warm, then all was quiet. There was no more shouting, and several of them were holding their hands to their heads. 

"What the fuck was that?" Bear asked in awe. 

"That," I replied, "was a low frequency magnetic pulse. In addition to any computers in the house being turned into giant paperweights, all the magnetic media--videotapes, audiotapes, computer diskettes--have all been nuked. Satellite receiver has been fried. Oh, and don't expect much from your coffee maker, either." I shrugged. "DVD's still in good shape, though." I glanced at my watch. "And, Kate, right about now, the same thing is happening at your house. I think you know what that means." I turned to Miranda and Lizzie. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to sweep Lizzie into my arms, but I didn't dare. I felt like I had failed her. "When you're ready," I told them quietly, and Miranda started to lead Lizzie toward the front door. 

Miranda stopped before they reached the exit and turned back to the room. "Ladies?" she called to Claire, and Brooke, and Joanna. "We've hidden copies of the DVD in your houses. Good luck finding them, before your parents do." 

I held the door open for them, then followed them out, but before I could shut it behind us, Kate was pushing her way through onto the porch. "You bastard!" she glared. "You played me! I don't know how you did it. I don't know how you did any of that, but this isn't over!" 

"Yes, it is, Kate," I told her. "It's finally over. Because what you saw today is just the barest minimum of what we can do, of what we're prepared to do, to protect Lizzie. To protect each other. That's what friends do, Kate. They protect each other." I turned my back to her and walked past Lizzie and Miranda, toward the parking lot. 

Behind my back, I heard Miranda say, "Hey, Kate? Don't fuck with the eagles, 'til you learn how to fly." I had to smile. Miranda was pretty keen on getting in the last word. 

Around the corner of the house waited my car in the parking lot. Next to my car was a Comcast van. We walked around my car to the back of the van. The rear door to the van popped open. Inside it, we could see a wide array of computer equipment. 

I should take a moment to explain. Bear with me. I believe that there are three institutions in all the world, which, given enough time and enough money, can do anything they set their mind to. Of these three institutions, if you were to say to me, "Would you believe that those guys can..." and follow it with anything you can imagine, I would ponder the question for a moment, and then say "Yeah. I can believe that." 

For example. One of the three is the Pentagon. 

Would you believe the Pentagon can see through walls? Yeah, I can believe that. 

Would you believe the Pentagon can track every individual on Earth? Yeah, I can believe that. 

Would you believe the Pentagon can transport equipment using what we would call Star Trek transporters? Yeah, I can believe that (although, I will admit there would be a longer pause for that one, but the point is, I _can_ believe they can do it). 

Three institutions who I believe suffer _no_ technological limitations. 

One, as I said, is the Pentagon. 

Two would be AT&T Bell Laboratories. 

And three would be the psychedelic whiz kids of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. There were eleven whiz kids, all told. 

Would you believe that the JPL whiz kids could design a remote control unit that allowed them to take over all of a building's electrical systems from a nearby van? Yeah, I can believe that. 

Would you believe that the JPL whiz kids could activate the microphones inside the phones, allowing them to hear all conversations in a house, even though the handsets are all on the phones, in effect "hung up"? Yeah, I can believe that. 

Would you believe that the JPL whiz kids could send a low frequency electromagnetic pulse from a remote van, that would slag every computer and magnetic media in its way? Yeah, I can believe that. 

Would you believe that the JPL whiz kids could write a computer program that could create a video that would emulate a real person, down to their voice, and the hair on their arms, so that everything in the video, the actors, the sets, the sound effects, existed only in the computer program? I'd have to pause a little bit longer for that one, but given enough time and money, yes, I believe they can. 

And so, several weeks earlier, when Lizzie had lamented the fact that she didn't have any older siblings who could look after her, I thought of the eleven computer geniuses who, over the course of the previous summer, had gotten to know Lizzie McGuire through her cards and letters to me, and had come to think of her as their little sister. 

When I had asked for their help, they had relished the opportunity, and the challenge. And they did not disappoint. There were three of them in the van now. Eric Skorvald peered through the length of the van from the driver's seat. In the back was Gary Parker, with perpetual acne on his chin. Across from him, manipulating three computer consoles simultaneously, was Fat Sam. I didn't know Fat Sam's real name, but he was big, garrulous, with a beard. He had been confined to a wheelchair since his early teens. 

"Looks like you kids pulled it off," Fat Sam observed. 

"Thanks to you," Lizzie told him, brushing back her hair, which had been whipped across her face by the wind. 

Fat Sam looked flustered. "We didn't do much," he protested, then nodded toward me. "This one's the guy you need to thank." 

Lizzie looked at me and smiled. "I know." I felt uncomfortable. 

Fat Sam cleared his throat, then turned back to his computers. "Power is restored," He was talking to us, but his eyes were glued to his computer screens. "But the phones are still disabled, sprinklers disabled, and their cell phone services are being scrambled. We can set off the fires from here, and the firefighters will never know until it's too late." He turned to Lizzie. "Or, we can pack it in, call it mission accomplished. It's your call." 

Lizzie looked back over her shoulder at the Lambda Chi Alpha house, the mini-mansion that had been the scene of too many horrible nights that she would be fighting to forget for the rest of her life. "Let it burn," she whispered. 

"They started this fire," Fat Sam mused as his fingers flew over the keyboards. "We're here to extinguish it." From inside the house, there came several loud pops and pows, followed by yells and screams, then frat boys and cheerleaders spewing out of the front door, being chased by a reed of smoke. 

"That sound, boys and girls, is what internal wiring sounds like, when it overloads. Faulty wiring's what we call that. Below code, don't you know? Probably been like that since it was built, right?" I nodded. There was nothing wrong with the wiring in that house. At least, not before Labor Day. 

"We shouldn't be hanging around here too much longer," Miranda warned everyone. 

"Oh, no, indeedy," Fat Sam said, rubbing his hands together. "Wouldn't do to draw attention to this innocuous little cable TV van." Miranda and Lizzie walked back around to my car. I remained behind, looking at all the computer and satellite equipment crammed into the van, knowing there had been two more just like it following Kate the last few weeks. I marveled at it all. One of the guys told me later that they had funneled about 17 million dollars from JPL's operating budget, in order to bring Lizzie back to us. I couldn't think of a better use for the government's money. So it would push back the search for life on other planets by a week. I didn't care. That day, I only cared about life on my street. 

"Hey," Fat Sam winked at me. "I put in a good word for you there, right? What do you think?" 

I bit my lip and said, "I don't know how to say thanks, guys," I told them. 

Eric shrugged from the driver's seat. "Just say thanks." 

"Thanks." 

"We didn't do it for you, dickweed," Fat Sam chortled. "We did it for the little girl." 

"I know," I acknowledged, and started to close the van's back door, when Fat Sam called to me. 

"Hey!" he said, and I stopped and looked. "Don't let us hear that you broke her heart, kid." 

"It's not like that," I pointed out. "We're just friends." 

Fat Sam and Gary studied me for a moment, then looked at each other. Then all three of them burst out in laughter. "Yeah, right," Fat Sam nodded knowingly. "Get outta here!" 

I slammed the door shut, and the van immediately backed out of its parking space. Lizzie and Miranda were already in my car, Lizzie in the back seat. Great streamers of smoke were pouring from the most of the first floor windows of the frat house by now, and you could hear sirens approaching from the west. They would be too late. I climbed in the car beside Miranda and turned the key in the ignition. 

It was two o'clock on Homecoming afternoon when we arrived safely back at Lizzie's house. Lizzie's parents were at work, of course, and Matt was in the back yard, digging a big hole. *_Sigh_* Lizzie hadn't said much on the ride back. _Thinking about how I had let her down, probably._ She was standing at the big window in the kitchen, looking out into the back yard. "I...um...I should probably be going," I said from behind her, and she turned to face me. "I mean, I should make dubs. Of the dvd." 

Lizzie crossed the room to stand in front of me, and reached out, and clasped my hands in hers. "You have always been, and will always be, my knight in shining armor," she told me, and with that, she turned her head to the side, and kissed me gently on the cheek. She looked at me for a moment, with glistening eyes, and tilted her head and kissed me again, this time on the lips. "Thank you, Gordo," she whispered. 

I nodded, then said, "Get some rest, okay?" 

She smiled through her tears, but this time, they were tears of joy. "I think I'll sleep until Thanksgiving." 

I exited as gracefully as I could. Miranda walked me to the front door, and out onto the porch. We closed the door behind us. Miranda looked deeply into my eyes, and said, "Lizzie and Gordo, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S--" 

I laughed ruefully. "Cut it out, _'randa_," I warned her. I studied her for a moment, then said, "Daredevil. Cause he's the blind one." I looked back to the closed front door, considering. "You don't really think...she.... Nah. She just got a little emotional." I looked to Miranda for support, for confirmation. Miranda only shrugged. Why is it that normally you can't shut her up, but when you're looking for advice, she can't give you just one little word...? 

"You did good today, Gordo," she told me. "I'm so proud of you." 

I shuffled my feet. "Um, I should go." 

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll stick around for a while, look after her. I think she's gonna be okay, though. She's our Lizzie." I stepped off the porch, and Miranda opened the door and returned to the McGuire home. I started to my car, then changed my mind. I felt like walking home. I could return later that evening to pick up my car, or maybe even Saturday. It wouldn't be the first time, and the McGuire's would be accommodating. 

And so, my story draws to a close. 

There _were_ some loose ends, and I know you have questions. 

Did Lizzie eventually gather up the courage to confess to Cody's family what happened to her that Memorial Day night? You _knew_ she would, right? I mean, I cautioned you at the beginning. She always ends up doing the right thing. Cody's parents remembered all the time that Lizzie had spent with the recuperating young boy--Cody had in fact developed a pretty big crush on Lizzie--and they assured Lizzie that she had done nothing that needed to be forgiven. As for any legal action, Kate was right. The family's attorney followed the money, and filed suit against Kate's parents. The case was settled out of court, and Kate was sent to military school. 

It may have seemed that some of the others got off a little easy, after the way they treated Lizzie. Keep in mind that our legal options were limited, that any kind of action that involved the authorities would have meant revealing to everyone what Lizzie went through, something that Lizzie wasn't willing to do, even with...especially with...her family. That doesn't mean we didn't have extra-legal options, which we took advantage of, in what we like to call The Case of the Sterile Staircase...but in all fairness, that's Lizzie's tale to tell, if she ever decides to tell it. 

Did Lizzie eventually come back to us? Lizzie was able to find a counselor at a free clinic that helped her through the trauma without anyone knowing, except Miranda and me, of course. It took several months, but she.... Well, no, I guess that's not being honest with myself. I guess it'll _never_ completely go away. A _part_ of her will always be affected. She'll have trust issues, intimacy issues, perhaps for the rest of her life. It's all we can do to try to minimize that, to bring back most of the very most typical Lizzie McGuire. And I think we're getting there. She's strong. She's my hero, you know. 

She still looks at me as _her_ hero, but that's not the case. You understand, don't you? You understand who in my story truly laid the groundwork for saving Lizzie, right? If you think it was me, or Miranda, you're wrong. If you think it was the psychedelic whiz kids of JPL, you haven't been paying attention. The one most responsible for coming to Lizzie's rescue? Lizzie. Because, you see, if it weren't for the cards and letters that she wrote to me during my internship, missives filled with care and concern and compassion and beauty and love for most everyone she met, she would have had no big brothers to look after her. 

Miranda became lead singer in her own band, and was soon--get this--dating a drummer. 

I know there's one more question that most of you have, perhaps the biggest question of all, the question that some people just can't seem to get on with their lives, without knowing the answer. The question? Did Lizzie and I ever hook up, get together? Did we dare to try to expand our friendship into...something more? 

And the answer? That, my friends, is another story. 

They say that life is a journey, and when..... Aw, to hell with what they say. Do you want to know what I say? 

When I look back on my life, and remember the days when friends stood by friends, always faithful, never abandoning, and with love, and support, and respect, saved one another's souls, and freed them from spiritual bondage, I say Life...is...GOOD! 

THE END 

**Author's notes:**

In deference to Euir, I've withheld Author comments until the end, but before I go any further, I do need to respond to one of your observations, Euir. You said, "who say that romance can make a reader bored?" That's a little bit of a straw man, because _I_ never said that. What I said was that the audience will grow bored with the characters, not with the romance. I know that there are well-written romances that aren't boring. Hell, I think I've written some. I just think that when you give the main character her heart's desire--which, in Lizzie's case would be (a) popularity and (b) a happy romantic relationship--there's no more story there; you've reached the end of the journey. If I as a writer ever consummate the relationship between Lizzie and Gordo, I will have said everything I intend to say about the couple by that point, and that will be the end of my story. 

This has been an exciting experiment for me: my first venture into fan fiction. 

I had only two goals in mind, and your reviews can help me understand where I hit the mark, and where I might have shot a little wide. 

The first goal was to keep the characters in character. Can you believe, or accept, that the characters you know from the series, might be these characters, a couple of years later? 

The second goal was to avoid the cliche. Did we go where you expected from the beginning, or did I throw any curve balls? And were those curve balls fair, in the overall context of the story, or did I cheat? It would probably involve going back and reading the entire story, from the beginning, before you can honestly answer the second question, but hey, that's your job as a reviewer. If you guessed correctly about anything that eventually came to pass in this story, was it because you picked up on foreshadowing, or was it because you've seen it done many times before? 

The answers to these questions will help me, in any future fanfics. If any of these guys ever feel the urge to tell their stories, that is. Thanks, guys. It's been a wild ride. 

Dr. Strange 


End file.
